


November

by get_up_danny_boy, manaphanfics, twentyfourphan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bottom!Dan, DAN AND PHIL - Freeform, Dan Howell - Freeform, Dan Howell and Phil Lester - Freeform, Depression, Fanfiction, Fluff, Gay, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Internalized Homophobia, Love, M/M, Mental Instability, Phan - Freeform, Phan Angst, Phan Fluff, Phan Smut, Phandom - Freeform, Phanfiction, Phil Lester - Freeform, Sad, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexual Abuse, Suicide, dnp, phanfic, top!phil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-07-18 23:12:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 116,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16128674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/get_up_danny_boy/pseuds/get_up_danny_boy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/manaphanfics/pseuds/manaphanfics, https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentyfourphan/pseuds/twentyfourphan
Summary: Having met at the last couple days of senior year, Dan and Phil both have troubled pasts and paper-thin lines that can’t be crossed.That’s until someone rips through that fragile barrier until it’s nothing but shreds and open wounds. And maybe they didn’t mean it, but maybe that also doesn’t matter now.





	1. Chapter 1

For 18 years, there wasn’t a day that went by where Phil was okay.  
For 18 years, there wasn’t a day that went by where Phil didn’t feel the tears gather in his eyes. Where he didn’t feel as if his heart was being ripped out of his chest only to be torn into shreds.  
For 18 years, the negative thoughts in his head only increased, leaving such a rarity of positivity in him. One that would need a sort of archeological digging to find. Because it’s hard to think positive when you’re mind has shut that part out, leaving the brain dark like a barely lit alley. 

And today wasn’t any different.  
In fact, it was worse. 

To Phil, there was no possible way of getting better. Not at all. So he didn’t try.  
He wished he would’ve tried. Tried at least in the right direction. Not in the direction that was going to fuck him over eventually, if not already.

And he was alone. He was always alone. No one daring to come near him as the rumors spread. The rumors about his parents abusing him. The rumors of the attempted suicide, the self-harm, the sexual abuse even.  
The rumors that weren’t really rumors. They were the truth. They were the truth and Phil absolutely despised it. 

Maybe one thing was good. Just one thing. One tiny thing that barely mattered because nothing was going to change after it happened.  
Graduating.  
Graduation was in a couple of days.  
Usually, teenagers would be so thrilled for this day to come. They can finally move out. They can go live their lives to the fullest with people they love and people who love them. Freedom was what everyone wanted. Happiness was what could come along with it. 

But Phil wasn’t excited.  
He was terrified.  
Absolutely terrified.  
As the big day came closer, his anxieties increased. He knew he was going to get kicked out. That his family was going to get rid of him as soon as they could. The days were counting down and it was only a matter of time before Phil would be left to survive by himself with absolutely nothing. 

The responsible being would search for a job. A job that was respected. A cashier in the local supermarket perhaps? Or maybe a babysitter for the neighbors. To at least start somewhere.  
A good start.  
That wasn’t the case for Phil.  
As much as he wanted to have a proper job, that was difficult —if not impossible —when he got involved in the prostitution business. And being an 18-year-old boy, it wasn’t going well for him. 

Not at all. 

 

His day went downhill the second he got into the car of a stranger way older than he was, this meaning skipping out of school. There was nothing about it that he liked. But to him, it was the only way.  
To him, having his hands above his head and silent tears streaming down his face with a grip tightening on his wrists is the only way.  
Developing bruises on his body was the only way.  
Getting yelled at was the only way. Being threatened, even. Hit. Giving the consent that deep down inside wasn’t consensual was how he thought he was supposed to live the rest of his life. 

It went worse when Phil couldn’t take the pain anymore. He wanted to stop. And so he said stop. Multiple times. It didn’t work.  
Which resulted in Phil reacting physically, attempting to get away. Cue the yelling, the insulting slurs, a bottle being hurled towards him, thankfully not hitting him but hitting the wall behind him and shattering into several sharp shards, one managing to slice a part of his skin open on his back. It wasn’t a big cut, but it bled heavily. 

He grabbed his belongings, that just being the shirt on the floor, breathing heavily as he burst out the stranger’s apartment as tears failed to stop spilling down his face, the jeans he wore halfway down his legs as he tried to not trip over himself because of them. He slid his shirt back on as he ran down the stairs, wincing at the pain from his body, not taking the elevator when he could have. 

Hours later in the late evening, he sat in the middle of the road, knees pulled up to his chest as he sobbed and sobbed to the point where he could barely breathe anymore. He stared down at the bruises surrounding his wrists. The street he sat in had a single lamp post that illuminated his surroundings. But all Phil could see was darkness. 

And despite all that went down, there was no benefit. There wasn’t that “reward” that was the whole point of what went down. He sat penniless on the cold road, beginning to familiarize himself with what was possibly going to act as his home for the rest of his life. 

A couple of cars drove by him, honking at him and yelling for him to move but he didn’t. 

He couldn’t care less if a car came by and did a hit and run. 

And on the other side of the road stood another boy, angered by the clamor from outside and behind the door he just shut. It was everywhere, the pain, the yelling and it felt like he couldn’t escape it. 

Normally Dan would've run down the hallway, shut his bedroom door and blasted music as loud as he could until the tears that streamed down his face had dried. But his bedroom was a mess now, a mess of shattered wine bottles and echoing words. There was no familiarity in his home even if everything that had happened that evening was so familiar.

He couldn’t lay in his bed tonight, a bed he laid in when kicks and punches hit his trembling body, leaving bruises on his pale skin and cracks in his heart.

 

His room didn’t feel safe right now and Dan was certain that it never truly did. Not with his mother or the pain that was connected to her.

You're supposed to love your mother.  
Guilt laid in these words and lingered in his mind, whenever he bit his tongue right before death wishes escaped his lips. 

 

God, he would never want his mother’s death. 

But the anger and the pain almost covered the love he had for his mum completely.

All he wanted was her to wrap her arms around him, as childish as it sounds. Hug him tightly until all the scars and all the hate would fade away. 

 

But she wasn’t his mother anymore, she was an alcoholic.  
And as much as he cared for her, he couldn’t love an alcoholic.

A smile tugged on his shivering lips, so desperate and jaded that it almost felt right to just burst into laughter. But there were just tears dripping from his tired eyes.

No matter how often she told him the reasons for her loathing, no matter how often he told them himself, there was no understanding of what she did.

But his decisions weren’t really reasonable either. He didn’t think about school when he rushed downstairs to spend the night with walking through the dark alleys of the town. He never actually thought about school, even if he was about to graduate in a few days. 

17 years of pain and graduation wouldn’t change a thing.

His mum would still drink all day, sitting in her dim lit room until Dan would come home and rancored words would still fill the air, breaking more and more away from what was left of Dan's heart. 

And now, he stood there in front of the apartment building, while his mum passed out on her bed and Phil sat on the cold asphalt.

And their eyes met for a brief second, the pain flashing back and forth between them. When Dan rushed towards him as another car approached.

"What the hell are you doing?" he kneeled down and tried to get a grip at the sobbing boy's arm. 

The car quickly drove past the two boys, both the loud honk and the touch of Dan on Phil caused him to flinch and quickly move his arm away.  
He daren’t to look at Dan, trying to control the tears that streamed down his face. He wanted to control them. But there was just so much pain, and the pain was unbearable. 

He couldn’t bring himself to speak either. He just choked on his sobs, head turned to the other side of the road where he didn’t face Dan. 

Why does Dan even care? He thought to himself. Actually, nevermind. He doesn’t.  
Because no one spoke to Phil.  
And no one cared.  
No one could ever care about Phil. That’s what he thought. Because he saw that he was worthless in his own eyes, not deserving an ounce of kindness. 

Dan never spoke to Phil. And Phil never spoke to Dan. They were two separate individuals with no knowledge of each other’s personal lives. Dan might’ve heard the truthful rumors. He might’ve not. But that didn’t change that fact that all Phil saw from Dan was the intention of hurting him. 

He looked down at his exposed wrists and quickly tugged down at the dirt-stained white sleeves of his shirt that was painted a brick-red color on his back from the cut. 

Finally, after several moments of silence, he managed to croak out a, “Leave me alone..” Sadness wavering in his voice as he looked everywhere but at the boy.  
Everywhere meant the tiny stones he sat on that pierced through his jeans and harmed skin. 

Dan furrowed his brows, considering to leave just briefly.

He knew Phil Lester, he’d seen him rushing out of classes, tears welling in his eyes and cowering against the walls, but nothing was comparable to what he saw right now.

The boy in front of him was shivering and shaking, tightly hugging himself, fingers digging into his sides and eyes full of panic.

It was like looking at a prey running from the hunter.

And even if Dan felt the exact same, he cared more about the stranger than himself, pushing away what had happened just minutes ago.

He couldn’t just let him sit on the street, barely visible for drivers and exposed to the cold nights of November. 

And even if Dan wasn’t proud of it, he had heard the rumors at school and the word suicide echoed in his mind as his gaze followed the car fading into the darkness of the night.

He‘d always felt empathy for the black haired boy when their eyes rarely met in the school's hallways, but he never thought about just talking to him.  
They were both outsiders, victims of unhesitant rumors and broken homes.  
But despite having similarities, no one was able to understand Dan and he didn’t even try to find people that would. 

For everyone, he was the alcohol addicted anorexic with scars shattered all over his skin. 

Not all of that was true or at least not fully. But people don’t care whether their assumptions are valid or just a result of ignorance and misunderstanding.

Dan wasn’t like his mum or, at least, that was what he tried to tell himself in the middle of sleepless nights.  
He didn’t drink as much as she did and he would never use alcohol as an excuse to hurt someone.

His fingers just wrapped themselves around the toxic liquid every once in a while before school, when the world was just too painful to face soberly. 

He wasn’t a monster, just a teenage boy about to graduate.

So he dried the wet stains under his tired eyes with the sleeve of his black hoodie and exhaled,  
"What happened?" 

 

The silence that temporarily replaced the words that were supposed to be said caused a nervousness in Phil.  
He couldn’t hear Dan’s thoughts in that silence.  
He didn’t want to.  
And he felt naked even though he was fully clothed. The judgment that wasn’t heard pulled out all of Phil’s deepest insecurities. 

He felt absolutely pathetic to be seen crying by someone from his own class, and his mind immediately went to additional rumors that Dan could spread about him.  
Then again, they weren’t rumors. But facing the fact that they were the truth was something Phil didn’t want to do.

He would rather pretend he was something better than the broken parts of himself, or to pretend he was something other than the mess that he was so that people wouldn’t have to look at him. They wouldn’t have to see him in this current state. And he wouldn’t have to see himself either. 

But that was impossible.  
And they already saw.  
They already knew.  
Did they like what they saw? Of course not.  
Everything in Phil told him that they hated him too, as much as he hated himself. 

He finally turned to look at the boy when he heard him speak.  
Dan saw how panicked he was. He saw the hurt. And Phil wanted to apologize for the horrible sight that he was. But he couldn’t speak as he stared at Dan. He was captivated by something in him as if he understood somehow. As if they shared something.  
They shared torment. 

“I’m fine. Nothing happened.” He muttered, sniffling as he wiped the tears away with his sleeve. His voice came out dryer than he wanted it to. He didn’t mean it. But the tears drained all sort of emotion from his voice. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Dan assured, looking left and right, checking if any cars were about to approach. “But will you walk a bit with me?” 

He was hesitant, not knowing if he wanted to spend his nightly walks with someone else. It was his escape, the short amount of time he had without having to face all the pain that waited for him in the morning. But Phil wasn’t fine and Dan was lonely. Too lonely to admit it. 

He pushed himself up from the asphalt and brushed the dust off his sweatpants carefully so that his fingers wouldn’t touch his bruises. 

He didn’t have any friends at school, he was used to people scanning his weak figure but that was all the attention he ever got. No one dared to talk to him, teachers never paired him with anyone in group projects and he always sat on his own. 

He was a loner. 

But he craved company so dearly, that he always found his fingers absently stroking his upper arm urging physical contact. He was pathetic. He knew no one would ever like him for who he was when not even his mother could. 

And the point in being alive seemed so lost in these moments.  
So unreachable that it was almost ridiculous to assume that a point even existed. 

And maybe it would be easier if he just gave up, gave up what didn’t even hold him here in first place. Because all the pain seemed to last forever, the anger and the loneliness seemed to overwhelm him every single day but he still stood there on the dim lit street, tears never leaving his eyes.

He waited. For whatever was about to come, for a little bit more pain, just enough to make his death reasonable. 

So he held out his shaky hand, urging the touch of the stranger more than the approach of a little too fast car. 

Phil stared at the hand in front of him for a couple seconds. The words “It’s a trap” echoed repeatedly in his mind. And he didn’t want to take Dan’s hand in his. 

He wanted to push Dan out of the way and let the car hit.  
He didn’t know Dan. So why would he care if Phil died?  
Wouldn’t it be better?  
Wouldn’t it be better if the boy that no one ever laid eyes upon just vanished from existence? He was already invisible. What difference would it make?  
No difference.  
Because Phil made no difference.  
He was just another speck of unnecessary dust. Nothing. 

So his heart beat fast but the world around him spun slower than it should. His gaze diverted to the car the was approaching, his eyes moving back and forth in between it and Dan. 

Oh how badly he wanted to push Dan out of the way and greet what he craved for the last 18 years. 

Instead, he did what he told himself he wouldn’t do. He took the hand of the stranger that gave off both a comfortable and uncomfortable familiar and stood up, the car zooming past both of them. 

And they were both alive, the feeling of regret lingering in the two. The “What if” that stuck with them.  
What if they didn’t move?  
And how desperately they didn’t want to. 

The grip on each other’s hands lasted for longer than it should’ve. Fear and comfort battled in  
Phil’s head. The cold feeling of Dan’s skin of Phil’s warm skin, merging together. He wanted to let go. Yet he didn’t. 

He looked up at Dan with weary eyes, and Dan looked back. They held eye contact for what seemed to be forever when in reality it was barely a couple seconds. 

The grip Dan had on Phil hurt him. Dan’s fingers grazed against the bruises on his wrist.  
Though Phil didn’t react. He didn’t show the slightest of pain he felt in his wrist.  
Because he believed he deserved pain, no matter what it was. 

And he hadn’t realized that tears were cascading down his face the second he stood up. Or how violently he’d been crying the second that car passed them.  
He hadn’t even realized when he opened his mouth to speak and said: “Why couldn’t you have walked away as you should’ve? Why didn’t you let me die?” His words coming out almost remote which showed the agony he felt. 

Because all he heard was how much Dan was going to hurt him. How taking Dan’s hand was going to backfire against him. And even if they were graduating in a couple days, he knew he was going to regret making that decision. 

But Phil’s hand was so warm. Dan found more comfort in the touch than he had in all those dark alleys together and for just a second, the passing car didn’t matter.  
As if the thought of just jumping in front of it had never existed and the 17 years of pain and loneliness were shorter than the seconds he held Phil's hand in his. 

But despite their unspoken wishes, it didn’t last forever and Dan reluctantly let go of the warmth, immediately wrapping his arms around himself as the cold air hit him like the words that had left Phils trembling lips. 

“Because if I let you die, I’m giving myself the permission to die as well.” He whispered, his eyes moving away from Phil’s for a second as he spoke only to rejoin the gaze that they shared when he was done, and his words rendered Phil silent, not knowing what to say at all.  
Or what to think, really. 

Their eyes locked together, glazed with the memories of the evening and the memories that they hadn’t made yet. Maybe graduation would change his life, maybe not for the better but Dan would take any chance of getting out of the routine he so despised.  
And that night seemed to be the beginning of said change because for once he wouldn’t be alone.

But Dan didn’t let a glimpse of hope flicker through his intoxicated mind, even if he needed hope so dearly, it was rather destructive than comforting. And he learned that at a young age. He learned that the more you hope, the worse you’re going to feel when it all breaks down in the end.  
And no matter how much you hoped or prayed, they’re just unspoken words of desperation, words that will make you feel better until the flame of hope dies and reality overtakes, leaving the world darker than ever. 

So he just turned around, certain that Phil would follow close by.

The pair walked in silence, each of them waiting for the other to say something. Anything. But they were both too immersed in their own thoughts, thinking if something should be said. 

And as they walked, Phil dragged himself tiredly behind Dan, looking at the pavement beneath his moving shoes with a frown on his face. Until he brought his head up and looked at Dan, analyzing the way he walked and discovered that it was the same as Phil’s.  
A walk that only those who knew true emotional drainage would know how to act out. 

The cut on his back began to burn, so his face scrunched up and he let out a quiet whimper at the stinging feeling. He didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t know what to do about anything anymore. He was hoping that car would save him from that specific worry. But it didn’t. Because Dan came along. 

His mind was torn between whether he should thank Dan or not. As he thought, he wrapped his arms around himself to try and give himself the temporary comfort that he felt when his skin touched Dan’s.  
He let out a shaky sigh as his gaze fell back down on his wrists, the very dim lighting of the street they walked on managed to show the darkening patches of Phil’s skin that contained multiple hues of a greenish, yellow color that contained streaks of a dark purple and brown. The colors that made up the appearance of bruises. 

The more he thought, the worse it got. And he wanted to stop thinking. He wanted it all to end now. He wanted everything to end because he couldn’t handle his memories anymore. He couldn’t handle the memories that inhabited his timeline and he wanted out.  
He couldn’t handle the pain he had been feeling since years ago, and he couldn’t handle the pain that he experienced hours ago. Nonconsensual consent. And it hurt so much. So very much. And it wouldn’t stop hurting. It wouldn’t stop replaying in his mind. It wouldn’t stop.  
He didn’t want to deal with it anymore.  
He wanted it to stop.

So he stumbled back as his anxieties grew larger, his breathing quickening in an uneven manner, and the tears that had left his eyes temporarily returned and leaked harder than before. He stopped walking and looked around, whimpers escaping his lips as he completely forgot Dan was with him. He had one goal.  
It was to get what he wanted.  
And as soon as he spotted a car once again driving, he walked out into the road away from Dan and faced the direction of the car that was approaching, exposing his bloody back and how much of his will to live was practically gone while shaking violently as he waited for the right moment to jump, and that was any moment really. The car just had to be close enough.  
It was now, or never.  
And Phil liked the option of now. 

There’s no point anymore. He thought.  
No, he knew.  
And this time, he didn’t want Dan to save him.  
“Saving” him would be to let him die. 

But Dan turned at the sound of the approaching car as well, the same thoughts circling in his mind. 

What if he just jumped in front of it now? 

Why would he wait for the pain that was so certainly about to come, when he could just end it now. There was nothing that held him in this world and maybe graduation wouldn’t change a thing and maybe there was a heaven he was welcomed in, even if he didn’t believe in god. 

Maybe he would just close his eyes and wake up in a different body, a body without millions over millions of scars, scars on thin wrists and scars on shattered hearts, scars carved into his skin by himself or others. Maybe he would wake up in a different house, a house without wine bottles on the floor and memories written on the walls.  
And maybe he wouldn’t wake up at all and the proof of his existence would just be carved in stone, a stone that would end up broken some day and his name forgotten. 

Daniel Howell was no one and he would never be. He didn’t have a legacy people would remember him for, he didn’t have anyone that would miss him besides his mother, because hating a dead person would give her nothing.  
He could just die now and there, on the cold streets of his hometown, with scars highlighting the pain in his life. 

People would understand, wouldn’t they?  
He was a troubled kid with an alcoholic as a mother and a dad he’d never seen, no friends, no purpose and people would say, “yes, he had no other option”.

But all he wanted to do was turn around and beg the black haired boy to save him, save him from himself and the strangling thoughts that he wanted to get rid of so dearly. If he could only kill his mind, kill everything that was so painful to face, throw it all in front of the nearing car.  
But he was part of it. Part of the mess his mind was and part of what was so painful about his life, there was no way of escaping it when it was himself he was running from. 

He was the prey and the hunter at the same time. 

And he did jump, but not to spare himself the pain that was about to come, but to save the boy that walked onto the street, illuminated by the car's headlights.  
He quickly clutched at the fabric of Phil’s white sweater, that was drenched in blood that Dan didn’t even notice at that moment. He stumbled backward, pulling the boy, who was fighting against the grip, with him and wrapping his arms around the trembling figure to get a better hold. 

“Hey it’s okay, it’s okay” he blurted repeatedly under his shaky breath as the car rushed by and Phil began to yell. 

Dan knew that he just saved him from something he would’ve done if Phil hadn’t.  
Something that he wouldn’t have wanted to be saved from, but how could he let the boy just die? As much as he understood his desire, there was no way that Dan would let anyone end their life before his eyes, besides himself. 

His breath brushed against Phil's ear causing goosebumps to trail down Phil’s arms, as he tightened his grip and let them both sink onto the asphalt. His heart beat so fast, it almost hurt. 

He didn’t have to hold Phil anymore, there was no other car nearby, but the shock that numbed his own pain for a few seconds desired nothing but physical contact. He was scared and overwhelmed and he had to feel the warm body against his own, otherwise, he might have fallen apart. 

Tears streamed down his face as he pressed his face into the stranger's shoulder, he would and could never let go of him.  
Not only did he save Phil from ending his miserable life, but they also saved each other - and both cried silently on the dim lit street as more and more cars, more and more chances to end their unbearable lives passed by.

Phil leaned into Dan with the same desperation of human contact. He stopped fighting against Dan’s hold on him and simply melted into his arms, tears pouring from his eyes as he watched the cars, wanting to scream out every time it drove away and left him alive and breathing. But the only things that escaped his mouth were sobs and the occasional, quiet, “Let me go..” that came out in a whisper, both conflicting the fact that he wanted to stay in Dan’s arms and that he wanted to leave his arms and go back to the streets. 

The black hair that was sculpted into a messy quiff had become covered with sweat, sticking to his forehead. He found his hands moving towards Dan’s from time to time, weakly trying to take them off because he couldn’t give up on wanting to give up.  
It was now or never.  
Maybe now would be another time, when Dan wasn’t there.  
But as he anemically attempted to remove his hands, he also ended up holding them, squeezing them gently as he cried.  
“Please just let me go..” He croaked out again, not wanting to be let go. “Why do you care about me..” He continued, whispering more broken words into the heavy-hearted darkness. “Just let me die...Act as if you never met me...Forget I exist. Everyone else is going to anyways..” The words went on and on until he ran out of breath.  
But he didn’t run out of enough to kill him.

Maybe he would’ve died if he was on the other street. The one that Dan didn’t walk on. So then they wouldn’t have to meet.  
Maybe then he could finally be happy.  
But even then maybe he wouldn’t be happy, even with killing himself. He was just too done to feel happy or sad about his death, but he only knew that it had to happen.

Because Dan was eventually going to forget about him. They’re going to part their own ways tonight and act like what had happened never happened only to never see each other again. They won’t meet in the future, because one of them, if not both will be dead. So perhaps they’d meet in the doubtful place of heaven.  
Or they simply will not cross paths again in any possible timeline of many universes.  
That was something Phil didn’t know if he wanted.

He turned his head to the side, tears dripping onto his exposed wrists. He didn’t care if Dan saw. He already saw the worst of Phil. He already saw what was beneath rock-bottom. And through his blurry vision, he managed to look at Dan, his hands still gripping Dan’s gravily. 

His gaze fell on Dan’s lips; no romantic intentions, but only to watch the cold air of November exit Dan’s mouth with every exhale, brushing against Phil’s lips and confirming that the two were alive.  
He was alive.  
His hand let go of Dan’s, moving up to cover his own mouth to muffle the cries that he let out, his eyes focused on Dan’s lips for only a couple moments before he shut them and allowed tears to escape from underneath his eyelids once more. 

And Dan did nothing but breathe, puffs of cold air escaping his shivering lips because words were too loud and too much. He could’ve just stayed there, the warm body in his arms and the stars above, the world could end now, the world could just explode in these very seconds and that would’ve been okay, maybe too okay. 

There was no room for doubts or hesitation, they held each other and held themselves because no one else would. They were strangers, nothing but classmates and even if they’d never exchanged a word before, now they shared the pain of these seconds.

Dan followed the salty tears dripping from long lashes, tracing down the boy's pale skin and shatter on his hands. Violet tinted yellow and green painted his wrists and Dan wanted to see if the colour would stain his fingertips under the touch. But he was too scared to loosen his grip and just stared at the multitude of hues he knew too well. 

He knew the gazes and the questions that came within, the whispers of assumptions and the misunderstandings of the truth. But what else could you do but ask, when no signature was on the canvas and no title above. But bruises weren’t beautiful, bruises weren’t the art, they were the vandalism ruining something as beautiful as the boy's skin, done by someone else or the painter himself, ruining what was there, painting what wasn’t visible before. Pain. 

“What happened to your wrists?” his voice was hoarse and quiet, but close enough to Phil's ear to understand. 

And to that question was when Phil opened his eyes, and his eyes full of trepidation. He looked into Dan’s eyes with his eyebrows drawn together into a frown and was no longer focusing on that November air that parted Dan’s lips as he tried to find the right words to say.  
Though nothing about this situation was right at all. Nothing had ever been right, really.  
He wanted to tell him so badly. He just wanted to go on and on about his entire life, to vent about the horrible things that happened and the horrible feelings that he felt. But he couldn’t. 

Dan had his own problems, and Phil had his.  
He couldn’t put his problems on Dan. He wouldn’t. What if it was used against him?  
He didn’t know Dan.

But at that moment, in the numerous intimate, aching and more than agonizing moments that had passed in the last fifteen minutes, he felt as if he’d known Dan his entire life.  
Which gave him more of a reason to not tell him.  
Because he’d rather let the pain destroy him, and not whoever was around him. Maybe to feel so much was that in the end, you’d feel nothing, and he wasn’t sure whether or not that was good or bad. 

He lowered his hand and detached his other hand from Dan’s to tug down at his sleeves to hide the marks that he wished would disappear, the ones that he wished he never even got.  
And his eyes moved away from Dan’s, dropping down to the asphalt beneath them. 

“Nothing.” He whispered, voice breaking, and the lie in his words crystal clear. “It doesn’t matter.”  
It was out of pure cowardice that Phil didn’t tell Dan, but it was that same emotion that caused the words to be on the tip of his tongue, wanting desperately to be said but stayed in his mouth. 

Perhaps it was just another tale for another time. 

Dan loosened his arms around Phil's chest but left his hands on his shoulders for security. He couldn’t fully let go yet, not ever. There was too much pain awaiting in the morning, too much reality to face and too much loneliness to soothe with arms around oneself. 

“No, it doesn’t matter, not right now.” He assured, hesitant about his choice of words. But he heard the discomfort and panic in Phil's voice, they were still strangers and they would part their ways before the sun would rise for another day. 

The gap between the two shivering bodies was not big, but with every inch that followed, the world seemed to be torn apart as well. But it wasn’t, of course, it wasn’t, not even when Dan slowly stood up, his fingers digging into Phil's skin, dragging him up from the asphalt as the cold air encased them separately. 

They weren’t one, they never were and they never could be.  
They were suffering individually, alone in their own mind and the world was okay with that. 

“Don’t even try to run away.” The intended sternness was vague behind the fear and concern in Dan's voice, “I’ll take you home.”

He would’ve taken him to his flat, made sure that nothing would happen, but his life was too messy, too much for someone like Phil. There were still wine bottles on the floor and memories carved into the walls, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to spend the night there.  
Maybe he’d just walk around like he always did, get some rest on a bench in a park or in the stairway of the building. Maybe he’d just skip school, he’d already applied for some job in a retail store and graduation was just days away.  
There wasn’t really anything to do. 

“But you have to guide me, I don’t know where you live.” He let go of one of Phil’s shoulders, his left hand now clutching the white sleeve so that he could walk beside him. He nodded briefly, his head still lowered. 

Dan’s eyes trailed across the boy's features as their feet shuffled along the ground tiredly.  
His hair was sticking to his forehead, his pale skin was speckled with barely visible freckles. Dan couldn’t really remember Phil's natural hair, but he’d seen the chestnut colour shine through the pitch black every once in a while.  
Even if it was too dark to see the full spectrum of colors in his eyes, he could still make out how bright they were, they sparkled like storm clouds right before lightning hit. Clouds of grey and blue, framed by eyelashes that had caught the tears from just moments before. 

Not many words were spoken between them as they made their way to Phil’s house. Every couple minutes or so, the silence was broken by a quiet mutter of directions coming from Phil’s mouth. 

Going back home was something Phil didn’t want to do at all. Not only had he skipped school and most likely had his parents receive a call from the principal, but he wasn’t prepared to face the loud yells that seemed to ring in his ear every time they sounded. He wasn’t ready to face anymore emotional or physical pain, but he knew it was bound to happen. 

And days weren’t getting better. They only worsened and worsened and he didn’t know whether his days would be able to ever see the light again. He was afraid to hope that they would because hope ended in disappointment every single time. So he learned to accept it. He learned to accept that nothing was ever going to go the way he wanted.  
Hell, he couldn’t even manage to kill himself. 

But now they stood in front of an apartment building, just like the one Dan lived in. The entrance was still lit and illuminated the two boys before it.  
Seconds passed of Dan wanting to let go but it seemed so final like that was the last moment of their shared pain and touch. 

Both would return to their lives, to the unfamiliarity of the walls and the loneliness between them. Too much space and too little to be themselves, too much pain to breathe but to much air to die. It was the fabric between Dan's fingers that gave him comfort, the presence of another shattered existence next to his. 

How could they’ve felt more home in the foreign arms of another, than on planet earth itself?

There were no appropriate words for their parting, but “Don’t try anything” escaped Dan's lips and a mumbled “please” followed close by. He had to let go now, otherwise, he’d wait forever for something to separate them. So he relaxed his grasp, his hand hovering above Phil's arm for a while, ready to wrap itself back around the white sleeve just in case he would change his mind. 

Phil nodded shortly in reply, looking at Dan with melancholy. Upon hearing the pleading, something in him for once didn’t want to end his life, but that feeling ended in a second and he was back to where he was. 

He turned around to face the glass doors of the building, not wanting to step foot in it at all. He reluctantly took a step forward, immediately feeling the panic rise in him and he was doing everything he could to calm down. But before leaving Dan, he turned his head to look at him, and a very quiet “Thank you” was said and the faintest of smiles tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

And with that, they parted their ways for the night, Phil leaving the stranger out in the frigid winds of autumn as he entered the warm building’s lobby. As he waited for the elevator to reach him, he’d glance over at Dan and he desperately wanted to go back to him. He wanted to run back to him and beg him to not let him go back home. But he couldn’t because Dan wasn’t Phil’s close friend, and they had only just met. 

The only thing Phil was to Dan was the boy attempting to take his own life, and the only thing Dan was to Phil was the boy that saved them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Hope you enjoyed our first chapter!  
> The account that this is posted on, manaphanfics, is a joint account between get_up_danny_boy and twentyfourphan. We just didn't know whose account to post it on so we created a new one. 
> 
> Dan is written by twentyfourphan and Phil is written by get_up_danny_boy !
> 
> If you wanna find us on tumblr then:  
> twentyfourphan  
> get-up-danny-boy
> 
> Thank you! We'll be updating again soon


	2. Chapter 2

There was no waking up the next day because there was no sleeping to begin with. Instead, it was an endless night that was filled with the predicted yells and the pain that struck Phil from all angles.

Dan had told him to not do anything, and for some reason, Phil followed that order. He could’ve ended it all yesterday night, but at the same time, he couldn’t. 

After all the insults that Phil heard the night before, after the rough palm that connected to his cheek, leaving a bright red mark that had still stained his pale skin up to the next morning, after violently shaking and jolting forward from sobs as every cutting word sliced open his heart and lungs as his personal space was invaded by the parent whose volume deafened his ears, and after the tears fell for hours and dried up on his face causing his eyes to puff up, he just couldn’t. 

And after running up to his room in an escape, slamming the door shut and stumbling back against it before quickly locking it until moments later he heard the loud and aggressive pounds on his door, he simply couldn’t. 

Because after washing up in the bathroom, after staring at himself in the mirror with tired eyes, not recognizing the reflection that stared back at him due to the dark bags under his eyes and the pain that accompanied them, and after analyzing the bruises decorating patches of his once clear skin which he then hid with the layers of clothing that brushed against them, he went and sat at his window.

And he saw Dan. That’s why he didn’t end it all. And when he laid his eyes on the boy who stood outside facing the street in front of him, all noise seemed to disappear from the atmosphere he was in. He wanted to call out to him, or maybe he wanted to jump down to him. But the building was too high, and Phil would prefer to not throw himself out of his window. Yet he simply observed him from behind the dusted glass, watching his every hesitant move. 

He’d unconsciously flinch because even if he didn’t acknowledge it, he could still hear the yells of his mother and how she wouldn’t stop with the continuous affronts even though he desperately wanted her to.  
But he’d gotten used to it.  
That didn’t mean, however, that it didn’t hurt like hell. 

Eventually, the words faded into the thick air, and the apartment went to an uncomfortable silence, a silence that meant if Phil stepped foot out of the safeness of his bedroom, he’d trigger the voices to come back, possibly louder than hours before. 

He tried so hard to bury his worries beneath the cold earth, hoping so hard that they wouldn’t rise up to haunt him. But in that night, they still found him, dragging him back to the dark place underneath the world to taunt him. 

And eventually, Dan left when Phil wasn’t looking because he’d fallen asleep briefly and when he woke up, he was disappointed that he was no longer there.  
There was always the disappointment. 

So the next morning at school, Phil got the familiar stares that only judged him and there was a knot in his stomach as he dragged himself down the halls.  
Not because of the people that surrounded him, but because of one person only.

He was afraid to face Dan, and he didn’t know if he wanted to. He didn’t know if he could even handle looking at him for a second.  
Maybe Dan did spread rumors? Maybe that would explain why people looked so much today. But it wasn’t because of Dan, Phil knew deep down inside. It was because of the mark on his face, and the colors that would slip from beneath his sleeves. It was because of him, and only him. 

He’d started to feel nauseous, remembering so much in only a few minutes. Thinking of so much in only a few seconds.  
So he rushed to the bathroom, on the verge of hyperventilating and locked himself in the last stall, desperately trying to keep the tears that built up from falling and the unsteady breaths from becoming audible to the rest. 

But the very same moment, Dan rushed into the bathroom and threw open the door of the first stall, not even thinking about locking it and just kneeling down onto the tiled floor, as nausea clawed at his throat. With one violent contraction nothing but acidic liquid splattered into the toilet bowl, he held onto. Everything hurt, not only his throat but his head, his stomach and every single bone in his weak body.  
Regret flickered through his intoxicated mind as he let himself fall against the wall, exhaustion overcoming him with black dots dancing before his eyes. The panic of passing out didn’t reach him and he almost forgot that he was sitting on the cold floor of his school’s bathroom. 

It was just a coping mechanism, he told himself.  
Just something he did every once in a while when the morning was too much to face.

His tongue wasn’t addicted to the bitter taste or to the numbing of the pain, he wasn’t dependent on it, but the bottle stood on the counter so luringly after he’d gotten home in the early morning. The flat still a mess, the light still burning in the hallway in an uncomfortable orange tone and his mother sleeping in her bed as if nothing had ever happened. He stood in the doorway a few seconds, eyeing the rising of her chest as soft snores escaped her parted lips. 

She was such a wreck. Her once so soft brown curls were dull and unkempt, her face sunken in and pale. Dan couldn’t really remember her looking normal, but he knew that she once was, as normal as a single mum with a past of abuse could be. She’d told him about his dad in a heap of alcohol, between insults and thrown objects.  
“I wish he would’ve stayed just to beat you up instead of me.” The words echoed in his mind as he’d turned around to pick up the fallen over chairs. 

He’d always cleaned up the messes she made and had never left the house without checking if she was still breathing. He had to grow up at the age of twelve when she lost her job and all control. 

He missed his mum. Missed what he never really had and what had faded over the years. He wanted to help her so dearly, wanted to just call an ambulance and let them take her away, but she was so determined to stay drunk until she’d die and he felt like a kid, unable to do anything but watch.

Just a few sips, he’d told himself as his fingers wrapped themselves around the glass bottle, enough to shush his circling thoughts. But a few turned into a lot until it was emptied like his mind. His mother was lost and he thought that he could find her in alcohol.

But he didn’t, that morning he found nothing in the intoxicants but himself on the tiled floor of the school's bathroom. His eyelids were heavy, but another heap of nausea overcame him and he drained his stomach once more into the toilet, wrenching his throat. He just wanted it to end, wanted to be sober as much as he wanted to be drunk, wanted to be left alone in the darkness as much as he wanted to be found. 

His lashes brimmed heavy with tears, he refused to let them drip. It was his fault, he couldn’t feel sorry for himself or his life that he couldn’t get a grip on, slowly losing the control he urged to have. But a lone tear broke the dike, salty droplets floating in a steady stream down his rosy cheeks as the sobs that escaped his lips, shook him violently. 

He was a wreck, sunken and shattered in the deep blue sea, lost and never to be found. 

As all of this went down, Phil listened, body shaking as he did so. But he got too distracted by the painful sounds coming from the first stall to focus on what he was originally crying about. So he slowly opened the door causing it to creak and poked his head out, looking around before he fully walked out. 

He looked into the mirror and wiped his tears with his sleeve, frowning when he remembered the handprint on his face that had swelled up only a little but was very much visible. And he falteringly walked over to the first stall, not knowing if he should interfere because he wasn’t sure who he was interfering with.

His heart got sucked into his throat when he saw Dan on the floor, in tears, and in distress. And without even thinking, he rushed into the stall and locked it behind him, crouching down next to the boy with bloodshot eyes and vomit dripping down his chin. 

Was this what Phil looked like the night before? Minus the sour fluids and the bitter scent of alcohol that lingered in the air surrounding him. 

When he did decide to think, he realized where he was and went into a small panic because he was uncertain of what to do. He reached behind Dan and grabbed a load of toilet paper, ripping it from the dispenser and placed his hand on Dan’s shoulder, when he then unknowingly cupped his cheek with his hand as he wiped the mess off of Dan’s lips. He breathed heavily as he watched the break down in front of him and whispered the same words Dan said to him the night before repeatedly. “It’s okay..” He said softly, his eyes darting all over his classmate’s exhausted features. 

Unlike Dan, Phil was not aware of the rumors that surrounded him. He didn’t know about the alcohol because Phil stayed away from everyone and everything. If he’d even try to engage in conversation, it would end up in him being ignored.  
So he’d just stopped trying. 

Even though he was afraid of the shattered being in front of him, that in that same second aggressively lunged forward only to throw up once more into the toilet bowl which resulted in Phil getting more toilet paper to clean him up, he had to help him.

It was only fair that he did after all.  
After yesterday.

And he thought they were going to part their ways and never meet again. He was prepared for that. More than prepared, actually. But here they were, the two on the cold, filthy school bathroom’s tiles, one that was previously crying, and the other currently crying. 

Maybe they were meant to get to know one another?  
Or maybe it was simply a coincidence that they both had rough mornings filled with tears and unwanted emotions that they both silently wished away, whimpers escaping their lips and whispers that begged the thoughts away. 

“Sorry.” Dan croaked, his voice hoarse and exhausted, as he pulled his knees up to his chest. He tilted his head and rested it on his folded arms, looking up to Phil, who dumped the paper towels into the toilet and flushed.

Was that their thing now? To sit next to each other on some cold ground, with wet eyes and cracking hearts as the world kept spinning? Trying to fix what’s broken with shaking fingers and no clue of where the pieces belonged?

Pathetic, spun in Dan's foggy mind, soundlessly rolling off his tongue, indistinct for Phil to hear. 

He felt like a burden as he could barely hold his eyes open, watching someone else clean up his mess. He was no better than his mother, just as sick and out of control. And he was scared, scared of nothing else but himself. Because anger always boiled right beneath his skin, because thoughts were so overwhelming and too many cars were driving on the streets he had to cross. He couldn’t trust himself, couldn’t say if he wouldn’t snap the next day. 

And there was no one he could be mad at but himself. Because how could he blame his mother for turning to the bottle when she was left alone with a tantrum-throwing four-year-old, how could he blame his father for leaving when a broken future was awaiting for him and how could he blame an inexistent god for not listening to the prayers he’d never send. 

No matter how numbed his brain was by the intoxicants he’d downed so desperately, he would always know that it was his fault. 

And the boy sitting next to him didn’t deserve that, he didn’t deserve to be involved in the mess Dan was. He had his own problems, his own hell he had to face, he couldn’t guide Dan through the fires without burning himself.  
But Phil just returned Dan's favour, sat beside him as the world seemed to fall apart, holding himself and Dan together, like he did the evening before.

They thought they could fix each other because they knew what being broken feels like.  
But there was so much more to the pain than alcohol and bruised wrists, so much more to uncover and so much more that would stay hidden.

Dan’s heart was heavy in his chest, beating steadily like the throbbing pain in his head. He wished he was home, he wished he could just lay in bed and sleep. But his own bed felt so foreign and his home so broken. And maybe it wasn’t his surroundings, but himself. Maybe it was his body that didn’t feel like his own, unfamiliar and fragmented. His life he so despised, all the memories of the past and all the scars shattered across his skin.  
There was no place on earth that could escape to when he was stuck in his mind, but Phil was a beginning. 

Just looking at him gave him a little comfort, his blue eyes now more present in the bright bathroom light. They weren’t like a storm now, more like rain after days of drought, the sun glimpsing through dark clouds, promising something better was about to come.  
They marked the contrast to his raven hair, which was formed into a quiff, some loose strands hanging in his face. 

Black and blue.

Phil shook his head a little, anxiously chewing on his bottom lip as he looked at Dan with the same feeling Dan was looking at him with. “It’s alright..” He whispered, concern filling his words as he spoke.  
His fingers found their way to the messy curls on Dan’s forehead, the ones having droplets of sweat stuck to them, and gently adjusted them. And his fingertips hovered over Dan’s skin, after they ran through his hair, his breath hitching quietly as he realized what he was doing because it wasn’t what he should be doing. 

And he desperately wanted to hold the boy in his arms, just like he did Phil. Craving contact that he never experienced other than the slap to his face, the one that stained his pale cheeks with a bright red, resembling snow drenched with the blood of a wounded rabbit, and other than the constant and repeated abuse that he couldn’t seem to rid of. 

Though instead, he retracted his hand from Dan’s face, bringing it down to his own side with his index finger and thumb fiddling together nervously.  
A habit that he developed over the years.  
A tick. 

So many questions bombarded his mind, and he wasn’t sure which one to pick out first.  
It was too much and too loud.  
That’s how it had always been. 

But what was loud had silenced itself, for the first time in eighteen years, because it was masked by the cries and shaky breaths of another mangled essence. And he managed to forget about the swollen hand-print on his face, or the aching bones of his wrists, or the fragmented parts of his mind. Only briefly, and it was only a matter of time before it all came back to run him over and all he did was run. 

Though during that time, he was going to try. Not anything for himself, but for Dan. For once, he was going to try to do something good. 

He sat there, the distance between the two boys enclosing unconsciously, searching for something to say. “What happened?” Was what managed to come out of him, his voice quiet so that only Dan heard, and not those around them if there was someone accompanying them. He didn’t expect the truth to come out of Dan. He expected an excuse, and he couldn’t blame him because he did the same the night before. 

Today, they weren’t strangers. They were simply classmates that never spoke and ran into each other at the wrong time.  
Or was it the right time? 

The question dragged Dan out of his doze, his tired eyes fluttering open. His head still tilted to one side, placed on his weak arms which were crossed lazily, resting on his knees.  
He parted his lips before he even knew what he would answer.  
His mind was still muddled and if he’d been sober, he would feel the panic growing. Panic just light as a feather, something that could be blown away by a single word or panic like a rope around one’s neck, cutting deep into the skin with every following breath, tighter and tighter until there’s no space for air.

But he was drunk, even after getting rid of the toxic fluids, the alcohol numbed his emotions.  
So he just blinked, noticing the red patch staining Phil's cheek. The outline of a hand was vague but still apparent. “I tell you if you tell me” rolled from his tongue in a slur as if they were playing some kind of game. 

Never have I ever had an alcohol problem, and if you have, you take a sip. 

There was really no point in lying, it was obvious that he was drunk and it was obvious that it was out of his control. Considering that it was still the late morning and they were at school, sitting on the bathroom floor. One intoxicated, one just exhausted by his thoughts. 

But there was no point in admitting it either. Dan saw no problem in what he did, telling himself excuses and white lies as if he couldn’t see his reflection in the mirror.  
Just coping and just one drink, just numbing pain and just this time. 

But it was weekly now, every once in a while he emptied half a bottle in the morning or late at night. He didn’t want up like his mum so badly, telling himself the same thing over and over again, until his thoughts became so overwhelming that there was no other way. He saw what alcohol did, saw how destructive it could become, but he was either determined to have control over it or drink until he’d die. 

He stared drowsily at Phil, trying to find the comfort in his features. No matter how much the alcohol tried to suck the life out of him, there was still loneliness and pain dwelling in his heart, creeping through the fog and clawing at his eyes, filling them with tears.

There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to numb his pain, all he desired was the touch of a warm hand, even if it was the one of a boy. One he shouldn’t crave physical contact from. 

Because boys don’t comfort other boys, they don’t hold one another and they don’t soothe the pain of yesterdays and nows. 

As soon Dan mentioned the mark on his skin, it immediately burned and reminded him of what was temporarily forgotten. And he noticed the slur in Dan’s voice, so by connecting the dots, he came to the conclusion that Dan was drunk. Not only were his tone and his actions proof of that, but the faint scent of alcohol accompanied the sour smell that left Dan’s body. 

He hung his head low, closing his eyes as he tried to calm down the voices that spoke so much all at once. He tried focusing on his breathing because he didn’t want to fall apart in front of Dan once more. 

And after a few moments, he brought his head back up, his eyes staring at Dan’s and again, they shared that familiar pain of hours and hours before. The pain they shared on the benumbed street when poignant yells and pitiful tears were heard. He gulped, looking away as he scratched at his sleeves, digging his short nails into the fabric. The words were next in line after the sigh escaped his lips.  
“You’re too drunk to give me any sort of advice that I won’t follow..So there’s no point even if I told you everything.” He whispered, words breaking in mid-sentence. He already knew what happened to Dan, but maybe there was more to it. “You won’t even remember a thing I tell you. You won’t even remember that this happened.” He continued, chuckling miserably. 

Of course, there was more to it. There was always more to it. And it wasn’t the positive type, it was the hellish, negative type that would break friendships and relationships in a fraction of a second and you couldn’t do anything about it.  
You’d simply be left alone to deal with it. Completely alone with no one beside you. 

Except for this time, Phil was beside Dan as Dan was beside Phil. They were very much still alone, but maybe they could be alone together

“Tell me everything then” Dan breathed softly, his words now clearer. 

He wanted to know, wanted to know every little thing that occupied Phil’s mind. Not only was he curious, but also concerned, concerned that he’d someday walk out the entrance of his apartment building minutes too late. Minutes too late to save Phil’s life.

Maybe he would understand what the boy was going through, maybe he could help him, help him with whatever caused these bruises on his wrists and the tears in his eyes if he’d just tell him. 

But the suffering of years and years couldn’t be put in meaningless words, dripping on bathroom floors, soaked in toxic smelling clothes, forgotten by one’s mind.  
Pain wasn’t something to just throw out, or up, cleaned by strangers hands, fingers fiddling around assumptions and opinions, leaving wrong impressions on white tiles. 

And maybe they could just say a word, just a sentence to put their agony in context for the other one to understand. They were far from being friends, too far from knowing deepest secrets, but sitting close enough to share the pain through simple eye contact.  
They’d seen beneath rock-bottom, desiring to be there for the highs, the brightest peals of laughter and shared happiness. But it was too early to hope, the bond between them too fragile to pull and their hearts too shattered for a smile. 

Phil furrowed his eyebrows at what Dan said, looking at him with his mouth slightly gaped open in search of an answer. His fingers continued with the nervous ticks as his mind considered telling Dan. 

He listened to the bathroom door open, footsteps shuffling near the off-white sinks. He traced his finger along his wrist, the pain pulsating through that specific area only as he sat there and thought for continuous seconds. 

Was he about to tell someone he just met his entire life story? With all the memories filled with blood, sweat, and tears? Or the ones of endless dark nights that would go days on end with no break. No break from the agony that joined it. No break from the thoughts that emerged from the darkness. The darkness that was once comfortable, the one that he’d soundly sleep in, but now that same darkness acted as the black box representing his psyche, the one that encouraged insomnia for several nights. 

No, of course not. 

And finally, he sighed deeply, shrugging before he motioned dismissively to his face. More specifically the reddish mark that had begun to fade but the pain still stuck. “You saw me yesterday night. This wasn’t there, and now it is.” He began, muttering the words tiredly, eyes drifting to the wall behind Dan and then back at the brown haired boy. “So you can assume whatever you want. It’s not like it matters, or that you should care. You probably know anyway.” He ended his sentence with what possibly was the saddest smile as he referred to the rumors- his truth -that lingered inside the walls of the hallways, traveling from mouth to another, going from ear to ear. 

And the rumors always circulated him.  
Everyone knew.  
It wasn’t something new. 

So he didn’t care what Dan thought. Because Dan wasn’t going to remember and in a couple hours they’d be acting as if it never happened, and it’d be like Phil never said a word to hint anything.  
Maybe today was the time they’d go about their separate ways only to never meet again.  
After all, there were only two days left until graduation. 48 hours of suffering that was going to turn into pure torture for the rest of his limited life.  
His small, short, limited life. 

Dan lifted his head, his eyes trailing down Phil’s body, lingering for a moment on his hands. Shades of violet and blue peaked out of the sweater's sleeve, pale and soft but tender to touch. Dan knew the rumors surrounding the black haired boy just because he’d overhead others conversations a while ago as he forgot to turn up the volume of his music.  
Abuse circled in his mind as Phil buried his hands in the fabric.

“But I want to hear it from you.” The alcohol clawed at his brain, the anger still dwelling in his chest, but there was no pressure behind his genuine words. If Phil didn’t want to speak about it, it would’ve been okay. They were still at school and he was still drunk, probably looking worse than he imagined. But he wouldn’t forget Phil’s truth, no matter how long he’d sleep in the staircase of the apartment building, he’d wake up and remember. 

Maybe not everything, not every little detail, but enough to see more than just bruises and cuts and tears. Maybe it wouldn’t automatically explain everything, but Dan wasn’t searching for answers for a riddle that wasn’t up to him to solve. He just wanted Phil to rant, to speak for hours about all the things that he’d locked behind marble bars in his broken heart. 

Dan could see the weight on Phils slumping shoulders, the agony was written in such beautiful eyes and the memories painted on his skin.  
And if speaking about all the thoughts that screamed so loud in his head would take just a glimpse of his worries away, Dan would listen forever. 

The black haired boy shouldn’t share Dan's pain, shouldn’t think the way Dan did, shouldn’t attempt what Dan desired. Phil deserved so much more than that, happiness and love and everything Dan knew he wouldn’t get to experience himself. 

A quiet sigh escaped his pale lips as his head dropped onto his arms again. It felt like they’d spent hours in the tiny stall on the bathroom floor, but just minutes had passed. It was either because of his intoxication or just Phil because everything felt like an eternity with him, which Dan didn’t mind. He’d probably even prefer to sleep right there on the filthy tiles, then in his own bed, but that was probably just due to him being tired. 

His head felt heavy and his limbs felt sore and he promised himself to clench his hand into a fist the next time his fingers would urge to wrap themselves around a bottle. But promises didn’t really mean much in his state, besides the one that was about to drip from his lips as Phil still hadn’t responded, “I would never let your words fade from my mind.” 

Because everything about Phil was immune to the alcohol in Dan’s blood. Every word was saved and every thought that flickered through Dan’s head was so true, that it almost scared him. And even though he was certain that Phils and his bond would only last until graduation, it had still been the only thing on his mind as the morning began and the bitter liquor gushed down his throat without a handful of pills. 

There was so much silence in between the thoughts and the words that were spoken that Phil could almost hear the sound of his own heart beating.  
Or perhaps it was Dan’s heart that was so loud.  
He wasn’t entirely sure.

There were so many words right at the tip of his tongue, wanting to be said so terribly, needing to be said, but they would not escape. They just stayed there for seconds on end, like a sneeze on the verge of being done until it fades away leaving you with that frustration. Though the frustration Phil felt was combined with dread. 

He was so afraid to speak and open up to someone. He was so afraid to have any sort of relation to someone because they always ended badly and in pieces. 

And as he listened to Dan’s words, trying to believe that he wouldn’t forget, he got lost in the tired, brown eyes that rested above the distinct, scattered freckles on his face. His eyes were a hickory as rich as the earth’s soil; stained with the color of hot chocolate on a cold, November night and that hot chocolate seemed to be the only comfort he would find as his body shivered from the martyrdom of seconds before. The deep pools of the dark-cinnamon swirls caged several untold stories that imprisoned the sweetness of chocolate and the bitterness of strong coffee. If you looked at him closer, just as Phil did every time he laid eyes on him, every time that they held each other, his eyes would reveal the exact thoughts that crossed his ominous mind. 

He took in a tottering breath, and his fingers stopped rubbing against each other. “What difference would it make if I said it? People have already said it for me. Nothing would change if you heard it from me.” He murmured, and his words were always quiet when he spoke as if he was hesitant to even speak in the first place because he felt as though he shouldn’t. 

The bell rang loudly, going on for a couple seconds, and the footsteps that once shuffled in had shuffled back out. But Dan and Phil remained on the floor, staring at each other as they tried to figure out their stories.  
And it wasn’t actually about finding their entire stories, for the time being, it was just figuring out the first sentence, or the first couple of words forming a dependent phrase. 

Although, it was as if the pair resembled the first couple of words and shared the dependency because much like those very words, they needed something to complete them. To give them meaning in a meaningless world because they were given no predetermined essence to fulfill assigned by a metaphysical being that was most likely inexistent. 

Dan's fingers tapped against his knee, trying to keep him awake, as his eyelids got heavier and heavier with each second. “It’s your truth, not theirs” he mumbled, not able to form proper sentences. He wanted to fall sideways onto the cold floor, curling up into a ball and sleep.  
Sleep was all that he could think of if his mind was even able to think anymore. He had been awake all night, not once closing his eyes for rest and not once even considering it. 

He was tired anyways, no matter how many hours of sleep he got, he’d wake up and feel the same. It was always the same. The urge of just laying down and closing his eyes for a second, wherever he was and whatever he did, that desire always lingered in his mind. To be inexistent for a second, a day, just long enough to breathe. To exhale what he’d been suffocating on his whole life and inhale air that isn’t filled with toxic fumes, burning his lungs and blurring his vision. 

But it is impossible to just take a break from life because death is eternal, death is irreversible and even if he wouldn’t hurt anyone with his passing, he still couldn’t decide if he wanted to die. He wanted the pain to end, the suffering and all the agony he had to bear on a daily basis, his mother, the guilt and all the control he lost, and he did want it to stop. Now, just close his eyes and sleep, singing a lullaby about how everything would turn out to be okay, but it wouldn’t. Not for him, not today and not while he was breathing the air that filled his lungs like water. 

His finger brushed over his sleeve, stroking the fabric covering his upper arm in a soothing motion. It didn’t help, it never could. Because loneliness can’t be shushed by the company of himself. Loneliness can’t be numbed by alcohol, because loneliness doesn’t desire slurred speech or liver failure. Loneliness can’t even be cured by a company, if the relationship is as thin as paper, slowly dissolving as tears drop on its surface. Loneliness is deafening, killing and the one dependable friend, there in the morning, noon and night.  
Loneliness was even there as he looked into the ocean of eyes because he was too far from his touch. 

“Can we leave?” he asked, his voice wavering as he fought the tears in his eyes. He didn’t know where they would go, but certainly not into a classroom. He was still too drunk and dizzy to face the hell filled with strangers assuming what had happened. He just wanted to stand up from the cold floor, escape the bright light that just worsened his headache and sleep. He didn’t want to think about death or how lonely he felt. He wanted Phil to be his home because at the moment he was the only thing he could find comfort in. But Phil was a person, not a blanket he could wrap around himself and Dan’s fear of his thoughts was too real to ask Phil if he could just hug him. 

Phil nodded shortly, noticing the tears that built up in Dan’s eyes, making his own eyes sting a little. He blinked a couple of times and put his head down, exhaling a sigh with his eyes closed but then opened them as he put his head back up. “Yeah..Come on.” He whispered and got up, the pressure on his wrists hurting as he pressed them against his thighs as he stood up causing him to let out a pained whimper. After straightening down his clothes from the wrinkles that lined the fabric, he held out his hand for Dan for him to grasp onto, looking at him with slightly furrowed eyebrows and a worried expression. 

And their fingers slid together into that recognizable grip of the night before, fingers wrapped tightly around each other with the fear of letting go. 

Fear that if they let go, the other will completely fall from existence.  
And although he only knew Dan for less than 24 hours, he didn’t want that to happen.  
At least he didn’t want that to happen to Dan. 

The drunk boy stumbled backward once he was pulled up to his feet, but was immediately caught by the sobriety in front of him.  
Phil in Dan’s arms one day.  
Dan in Phil’s arms the other.  
Would it develop into a pattern until one day there would be no one left to cradle except the space that was once occupied with their existence? 

His arm hooked was then around Dan’s waist and his hand tangled with the other’s to keep him from falling. Their eyes didn’t seem to shift their gaze from each other, and their eyebrows drew together in an uncertain expression apart from the hurt than painted both faces. 

The mental question of “Why?” Flashed into their minds.  
Why are you helping me? Dan’s eyes asked, his eyelids heavy as they attempted to stay open despite the exhaustion they were based on.

Phil’s eyes remained answerless for a few moments.  
Why are you helping me? They asked the same question and received no response. 

As they spoke without any word coming out of their mouth, he found his subconscious directing his gaze down to Dan’s lips, staring at the corner of his mouth that curled itself into a frown. And when he looked back into Dan’s eyes, the tip of his tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his bottom lip, his eyes were filled with many thoughts that he had no answer to. 

Could the meaning of life be the search for answers in an answerless world? 

“Uh, we won’t go to class,” He began, removing his hands away from Dan reluctantly and stuffed his frail hands in his pockets. “Let’s start by going outside, yeah?” He continued with a very small, but visibly sad smile on his expression. 

He unlocked the door and cracked it open slightly to make sure no one had joined them in the bathroom before he fully opened it. He then helped him out of the stall, the touch of his fingertips against Dan’s skin causing heat to distribute itself throughout Phil’s body. 

Every second he spent observing Dan, the more he grew interested in the boy. He wanted to know what had caused such a beautiful, small body to be intoxicated with such harmful liquids that it did not deserve. He wanted to know what had broken a being deserving of only what was good.  
Apart from that, he needed a distraction. Maybe the pain of others could help forget his own. Only for a bit. Only for a second. But maybe it could.  
And as he forgot his agony temporarily, he could help. He could try. 

And perhaps it wasn’t a tale for another time. Perhaps it was simply a trade.  
A story for a story.  
A cry for a cry.  
Hurt for hurt. 

They stepped out into the empty hallway and Dan’s fingers reluctantly wrapped themselves around Phils, loosening the grip around his waist. Even if he craved the touch so dearly, they weren’t in the bathroom stall or on a dim lit street anymore, they were at school and rumors spread so quickly. He let go of his hand and swayed a little to the side, forbidding himself the warmth that radiated from Phil. 

“I can walk” he stated as he flashed a thankful smile towards the boy next to him. Sad, but thankful. Phil nodded, his eyes still focused on Dan’s movements. 

They weren’t friends, they were still strangers and strangers wouldn’t hold each other like that. Their eyes wouldn’t lock like that and their emotions wouldn’t be shared like that.  
But what else could they be?  
They’d never talked before, not even a single word in all these years of being in the same courses, the same rooms, and the same pain.  
So much had changed in less than 24 hours that even a simple word got a new definition. 

Stranger; a person whom one does not know, with whom one is still so desperately familiar.

Dan’s arms found their way around his chest, fingers tightly gripping onto the soft fabric of his sweater resisting the urge to grab Phil's hand instead.  
It wasn’t cold, but winter still rested on his skin as they walked through the halls with downcast eyes. 

Winter seemed to be in his blood, even though he was born in summer. Snowstorms raging in his head, frost patterns rosing on his eyes as he watched his life shatter like ice on deep seas. White and shades of violet and blue being on the color-pallette he called his skin, occasionally red breaking through the surface like a forgotten rose. But there was nothing beautiful about the winter that seemed to overtake his body, covering his heart with a thin layer of ice to protect it from the cold, keeping it safe to bloom in spring. 

But spring never came. 

Not when the green lashed out of the soil when the air smelled like rain and freshly mown grass. Not when the sun blazed like polished amber and freckles spackled heated skin. Not when the ground was covered in caramel leaves, rustling under children’s feet and the world was drunk of vivid colours.

Winter brutally picked at each and every flower, every warmth and hope left burn marks and colder days behind. Trembling lips and hoarse voices, unable to form a word. Winter ruled over every season, beginning and ending with November, circling infinitely since the day he was born. 

Dan turned his head as they stood in front of the school’s entrance, or in their case, exit. His eyes locked with Phil’s that so paradoxically were as blue as ice but warmer than the sun itself. He bit his lip, words forming on his tongue but he was hesitant to speak because alcohol crossed lines and alcohol was all that he could taste.  
“Don’t leave me alone” he begged and a mumbled “please” followed close by. 

Phil stared into Dan’s eyes, his heavy, dark eyes that were coated with a layer of tears and had drunken dilated pupils as his own eyebrows furrowed together.  
His fingers returned to the nervous habit.  
But he shook his head briefly, his mouth gaping slightly open to let the words pass through his dry throat and wet lips.  
“I won’t.” He whispered, words having the same need as Dan’s. 

They’ve known each other for such little time, but the words they spoke to each other had feelings worth of years.  
And it was both a beautiful and sad thing, just like them, and just like the bond that they had. 

The bond that was solely based off of pleads and tears and stares that were far too long to be considered friendly, but far too distant to be considered close, and arms around waists with fingers in the other’s hand, and based off of unknown stories of pasts that remained mysteries to the other wanting to be unraveled but kept tucked away not wanting to be touched.


	3. Chapter 3

It was colder outside than in the building and winter seemed to coat them both as their shivering bodies walked side by side through the streets. Both had their arms wrapped around themselves and besides occasional shoulder bumps, there was no contact between the two.

He was still swaying, always just moments away from stumbling as he didn’t really have control over his feet. His breath was forming white clouds in front of his eyes and he wished he would have cared enough to take a jacket with him that morning.

Some emotions had found its way back into Dan's brain, including panic, as he realized that they were heading to Phil’s home. He hadn’t been somewhere else than at his own flat in years, back when playdates existed and friends were easy to make. He didn’t know what to expect or what they’d do when they were there, but the promise that he wouldn’t have to face his parents was at least somehow calming.

He was still obviously drunk and even though he wouldn’t have to make a good impression, he’d rather make no impression at all. It was bothering him enough that his teachers thought that he was just lazy and probably cheated his way through the year because besides all the missed lessons he was still able to graduate with acceptable marks, which he, in fact, had earned himself. Even if he missed a lot of classes, he did know a lot of stuff and his brain wasn’t yet dull-witted by the alcohol he’d consumed.

Sometimes he wondered what he could’ve reached if his mother hadn’t started to drink and his life hadn’t fallen apart. Sometimes he found himself in daydreams of colleges and universities he could’ve gotten into so easily if dark thoughts hadn’t occupied his brain. Sometimes even teachers came up to him, telling him how he’d wasted his potential, his life, making him feel worse than before, even if they just tried to motivate him. It always sounded like it was over, that he’d failed and all the opportunities he should’ve used were gone. As if there was no point in even trying anymore because no matter how hard he’d fight for his life, it would be too late.

The chattering of Dan’s teeth was distinct but audible to Phil’s ears, and there was surprisingly no hesitation when he took off his jacket, revealing the marbled, pale skin decorated in multiple freckles and patches that were far too dark and far too mauve with hints of red to be considered simply a tan, and several other patches that faded into his skin in a color of green and brown and was clothed with just a thin t-shirt.

He handed Dan the jacket, at first having the offer rejected by a dismissing wave of the hand and a polite smile, but in turn, he sighed before putting the jacket over Dan’s shoulders, passing on the heat that radiated off the piece of clothing onto his smaller figure.

A simple, friendly gesture. That’s what it was and only was. Nothing more and nothing less.

It never could be anything more.

They were strangers, and strangers couldn’t have anything more than friendly gestures based off of moral values.

 But strangers couldn’t possibly be thinking of each other so much, having the other roaming the dimly lit streets of their mind.

And they couldn’t possibly feel so much lost comfort in a stranger’s eyes.

Yet they did, somehow.

Though Phil didn’t want to be more than strangers. Being strangers was a defensive barrier, and if they became more than that, then either of them would be prone to hurt.

And there was already so much hurt to deal with. Eighteen years of it and most likely many more to come.

He thought way too much about the boy next to him who held the oversized jacket close to his body.

They’d grow attached to each other, and they’d grow to love the parts of each other that the other hated about themselves. And they’d cry for each other, laugh through falling tears for each other. They’d be each other’s shoulder to cry on. They’d grow dependant of one another, needing the other for survival.

And he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to fall in love with a stranger because they shared a couple moments of pain. He didn’t want to fall in love with a stranger who he knew nothing of, let alone that it wasn’t what he was supposed to feel.  

Yet there he walked beside that same stranger whom he was so terrified of feeling anything towards, his eyes glancing over at him every couple of seconds as they walked, and the chestnut colored eyes glanced back before they both looked away.

And that smile of his from moments earlier kept showing up in Phil’s mind. The smile that lasted for a single blink of an eye but left enough of it to stick itself in Phil’s head. The way his lips curled upwards at the corner of his mouth causing the single dimple to crinkle above it. Through this cold, pained November winter, his smile was warm and through the clouds was the only ray of sunshine, and Phil was sunburned. But his smile was small, resembling the smile of a child who was determined not to weep, and his smile died faster than wisps of smoke dissipated after a candle flame had been snuffed out.

But Phil would always remember that quick smile, and would always remember the hesitating feeling that accompanied it.

 Because there was hesitance in it. Hesitance that Dan felt still as the jacket warmed his shivering body. It was a gesture that wasn’t supposed to happen between two strangers, offering one the only source of warmth just so that he wouldn’t feel cold. He knew it from books and movies, in which the boy offered the girl his jacket, claiming what’s his. And Dan wasn’t Phil’s. Dan didn’t depend on anyone and no one depended on him, that’s how it always had been. The only person he had to care for being his mum and himself, but no one had ever cared for him. He wasn’t used to it and it felt unnatural.

_Why would you care if I was cold?_

But there was also the smile, the tugging on the corners of his lips as a silent “thank you”, the glimpse of concern in Phil’s eyes, the scent on the jacket that reminded him so pathetically of comfort and dim lit streets.

Pathetic was also the word that let his smile fade, preventing his fingers from wrapping themselves around the soft fabric, pulling the jacket tighter around his shoulders to escape the cold. Pathetic always lingered in his mind, always made him feel smaller and more worthless than before. Pathetic was the way he looked at Phil from the corner of his eyes, swaying closer and further away from him, his shoulder brushing against his, just to make sure that he was still there and hadn’t left him yet. 

Phil was calm, mostly. Whatever calm had become to him, that is. He wasn’t thinking about himself and his problems. He was going to take Dan to his house and help him feel better, or at least try to. Because that’s what matters, right? Trying. So the lingering feeling of guilt that hung itself close to Phil’s body ready to tumble him over didn’t get the chance to.

Yet he spoke too soon, so very soon, and a feeling worse than guilt pushed him into a pit of sharp-edged rocks. He felt his lungs deflate in his chest, and he was almost gasping for the chilled air, desperately wanting to be able to breathe. But he couldn’t. His body pounded with the pain of yesterday as his mind remembered and went over every detail. And he wanted to stop, but he couldn’t.

And he hadn’t even realized that the tears gathered in his eyes on the edge of his waterline waiting to be released. But Dan was with him, and the stranger was a priority. So he couldn’t.

He made eye contact with the older man of the day before as he eyed him from behind the steering wheel of his old, rusted car across from them, and his expression was full of disgust and almost hateful towards Phil.

And with a trembling breath and a quiet whimper that escaped from behind his quivering lips  from fear that was beyond description, there was no thought when he wrapped his fingers around Dan’s bicep, pulling himself closer to the boy as he began to walk increasingly faster in the other direction, head hanging low and gaze fallen to the sidewalk, mumbling panicked incoherent words to himself and pressing Dan’s arm against his chest as if using him for protection.

Because that’s what they were to each other now: A shield from the spears thrown at them by the endless battles of life that they so desperately wanted to end.

Dan flinched as he felt the grip on his arm and pressure on one of the many bruises that covered his body. His eyes darted over to Phil, assuming that something must’ve happened, but the black haired boy was just staring straight ahead at a car, which passed them before Dan could take a look at the driver.

Phil’s fingers dug into his skin as he closed the gap between them and Dan bit his lip to suppress the sudden pain. He didn’t really know what he could do but the distress in Phil’s heavy breathing was obvious, the panic that caused his chest to rise and fall quicker than before, turning his already pale skin white.

“What’s wrong?” Dan perplexed, trying not to stumble over his own feet as their path quickened. But Phil didn’t answer, his lips moved, but there was no voice, no words.

Dan looked over his shoulder, but the car had left, they were alone and something seemed to get out of control. Whether it was Phil’s troubled breathing or the lack of private space between them, something seemed to overwhelm Dan now as well, causing him to stop abruptly.

He grabbed Phils by his shoulders and faced him, their eyes locking in less than a second.

“What is wrong?” He repeated, his words suddenly clear and determined as if there’d never been alcohol gushing through his blood. But his fingers relaxed as he saw a lonely tear tracing down Phil’s cheek. He followed it with his eyes until it dripped from his chin, shattering on the asphalt.

He didn’t think about strangers or movies as he wrapped his arms around the black haired boy’s neck. He pressed him tightly against his own cold body, feeling the warmth piercing through his sweater. He didn’t think of the jacket that fell from his shoulders or the cars that could possibly pass them as they stood there in the daylight. Not even the reason why Phil had panicked or teared up in the first place mattered at that moment, it was just them doing what they always did; holding one another as the world seemed to fall apart.

It took a couple of moments for Phil to wrap his arms around Dan’s frail body due to doubt, and when he did, he clenched his eyes shut as he buried his face in Dan’s shoulder, shivering briefly from the frigid body of the boy pressed against him, but trembling from the quiet sobs that escaped his lips.

And he felt so stupid and deplorable to have broken down in front of Dan once again, and it always happened to be on a street.

Would they always have conversations filled with mostly cries and the occasional question that received no clear answer?

His fingers tangled themselves in the fabric of Dan’s shirt, clutching onto him as if his life depended on it, even though it had started to feel that way, and his lukewarm, pale skin grazed along Dan’s brisk frame. And his curly hair had the touch of gold thread across Phil’s face, and the faint smell of sweet lilacs arose, filling his head with dizzy thoughts of summer as he stood in the blizzard of his mind. 

But what they had never lasted, and Phil loosened his grip on Dan’s shirt and released himself from his hold, struggling to look into his eyes. “I’m sorry..” He croaked out, voice breaking as he spoke, and wrapped his arms around himself for the comfort which he abandoned seconds ago. “It isn’t important..” He continued, and finally met Dan’s eyes.

Of course, it was important, but Phil didn’t want to talk about it because he couldn’t. He couldn’t because he was on the streets for Dan this time, not him. He was with Dan because Dan needed to be taken care of. So Phil wasn’t important. He never was, and never would be.

Though relief accompanied all the negative feelings in his head as his eyes followed the car in the distance, and he was able to breathe but only for a bit. The tears had stopped dripping from his eyes, and his breathing was still shaky but had regulated slightly. There was a silence between them. A silence that was filled with thoughts, and that had become something normal between the pair.

It was normal to be simply staring at the other, eyebrows drawn together in concern as they searched for the right things to say to the person in front of them.

“Don’t apologize” Dan shook his head lightly, as his eyes were still locked with Phil’s.

He wanted to know what was going on his mind, what kind of thoughts occupied his brain, what he’d panicked about. There was so much to know, so much he didn’t because they’ve only known each other for less than 24 hours. And it felt strange to look at Phil, feel his warmth against his skin and familiarity in his eyes when all he knew about the black haired boy was his address, his tears, and his pain.

He didn’t know the cause, the source that made him suffer so unbearable to watch, he only knew that agony lingered behind the soft blue skies, as dark and endless as the universe itself. But there was time, time to get to know each other and even if Dan always felt like time was running away from him, it was so much slower with Phil.

Hours felt like seconds, months barely like a week, but with Phil less than a day felt like an eternity.

And something about that bothered Dan in a way he couldn’t explain himself.

He didn’t want them to depend on each other, didn’t want them to grow too close when so much could happen. He didn’t want someone to rely on him when he couldn’t even trust himself. He was a wreck, something others would try to save from the sea, fixing what couldn’t be fixed and couldn’t be hauled from the deep where he’d been decaying in for years and years.

“And don’t say that it’s not important, whatever it was, it was enough to make you cry” Dan continued after he found the right words, after seemingly hours of just staring at each other, trying to read the other’s mind. Which wouldn’t have been much of a success even if they had the ability to do so, because Dan’s mind was still fogged with the intoxicants he’d downed when the sun rose.

But he just tried to ignore it, ignore the sickness he still felt, the exhaustion clawing at his bones and the pain that slowly returned with every breath he took. Because right now all that mattered was the sadness in Phil’s eyes, the loneliness Dan’s company couldn’t even cure and the dark, dark memories of yesterdays.

He picked up the jacket from the stones and brushed off the dust before he wrapped it around Phil's shoulders as he did just minutes ago. The black haired boy tilted his head, but Dan just let a brief smile tug on his lips before he turned around and began to walk.

The cold November air still made him shiver as he wrapped his arms around himself, but if he couldn’t comfort Phil by his own touch, he’d at least give him the warmth of a jacket.

As Dan spoke, Phil tried to keep the words he uttered from leaving his head, but that probably wasn’t the best thing to do since it led him to begin overthinking, not like that was anything new. Though he stayed quiet and followed behind Dan, just like he did the night Dan had found him curled up on the streets, and there were words that he wanted to say, but never did. 

He wasn’t going to argue and say he wasn’t important, and he wasn’t going to discuss what had made him panic and cry. The best thing to do was keep it to himself because Dan had enough to deal with and Phil didn’t want to bring him further down.

Because all Phil was was a burden. A burden to himself, to Dan, and to everything and everyone around him.

The only thing he did manage to do was hold the jacket around him, the faint scent of Dan trailing off it which brought Phil a temporary comfort replacement. He wanted to feel Dan hold him again, and he wanted to wrap his arms around his body again and feel the wild, curly strands fall against his skin again.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

Because strangers don’t desire such things.

He ended up walking next to Dan once more instead of behind him, purposefully walking close to him for the reasons of feeling safe, yet at the same time exposed, and simply wanting to be near him. Their eyes met several times as they moved, but instead of looking away, they stayed for only a few seconds, trying to see what the other saw, and trying to feel what the other felt.

He wanted to know why Dan had been in tears on the filthy bathroom tiles of the school, the strong smell of alcohol radiating off of him, as much as Dan wanted to know why Phil had clung himself to his arm with tears streaming down his face, pressing the bruise on his bare, pale skin against the covered bruise underneath Dan’s sweater.

It wasn’t that long after until they had arrived at Phil’s home, and he wasn’t worried about his parents as they weren’t home and probably wouldn’t be until late at night when the sun had gone down with the temperature and the two had parted ways for the night, leaving the other alone for the untold stories that originated from the own supposed safety of their home.

He took the keys out from his pocket, the soft jingle that came from them as they clashed together when they moved from Phil’s grip and into the door’s lock. The quiet _click_ opened the door, revealing the hell that was known as his home.

Though it wasn’t hell, currently, and Phil was glad, however, the heat that hit them from inside resembled its temperature.

He led Dan inside, wiping the bottom of his shoes with the welcome mat, and slid the jacket off his shoulders, hanging it on the wooden coat rack that stood upright beside the entrance.

There was always that anxious feeling as soon as he saw the man from earlier, thoughts like what if he had followed him stuck to his mind, and he always found his eyes looking beyond Dan and to the empty streets as he walked in, looking out for the jalopy that could drive by his front yard any second.

A shaky sigh escaped his lips as he shut the door, turning back to Dan with a faint smile on his face. The smile they seemed to give each other recently never showed a pure form of happiness. It was always so bittersweet, and it always had tears waiting to be let go in upcoming exhales and they so oftenly did.

He hadn’t even noticed that his index finger and thumb went back to nervously rubbing against each other, or that this toes wiggled impatiently in his shoes beneath his socks, or that the fingers of his other hand tapped against his thigh. He opened his mouth after searching for words that were so obvious to find, but for some reason, he wasn’t able to find them as fast. And the simple sentence of “Let’s start by getting you a glass of water to wash down the alcohol.” came from his dehydrated mouth, and as usual, his voice was hushed, afraid of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time because all he ever did was mess up.

Dan watched Phil as he suddenly turned and opened one of the white cabinets, his shaky fingers wiggling around a glass which he then filled with water out of a bottle that stood on the counter. He handed it over to Dan, who waited a few seconds until he took a sip.

The cold liquid ran down his throat within seconds, as if it was the bottle he’d emptied in the morning, until there was not a single drop left. He hadn’t even felt his thirst before and if Phil had asked if he wanted something to drink he’d probably said no.

And now he felt like he could down glass after glass, just anything to alleviate the throbbing pain in his head.

But he didn’t ask for more, just breathed a little “thanks” as the corners of his mouth inched up a little. He let his eyes wander around the quite modern furnished kitchen, as he held onto the glass. His bony hand seemed enormous in comparison to his slender wrist, which was now slightly visible as his sleeve had curled back a little. It wasn’t enough to reveal any of the scars that even marked his left arm, just a few freckles sprinkling his pale skin.

Dan didn’t specifically look for it, but he noticed that not a single photo or remarkably bad drawing of a child adorned the white walls in the kitchen or in the entrance. There was no sense of someone living here with a child and even if that child was already 18 years old, there should be at least something. Dan’s flat wasn’t exactly homey either, but there were still a few photos of him hanging on the walls, all taken before he was six years old, before everything fell apart completely. And there used to be even more, but some shattered during toxicated arguments and the lack of objects to throw at him.

He brought his right hand up to his jaw, his thumb brushing over the faded scar that once was a wound, gushing blood as the sharp edge of a wooden frame had grazed his face. He remembered it vividly as one of the first _bad_ nights.

He was either six or seven and his mum had either emptied one or a dozen of wine bottles. She’d always filled water bottles with the clear but yellow tinged alcohol until she didn’t care anymore, so that Dan couldn’t know the exact amount she’d had. But she must’ve had a lot that night, because when she was supposed to wish him a good night, she yelled his name instead. The sound still lingered in Dan’s ears, the expression on her face when he entered her room. Narrowed eyes, the light and love completely washed away with wine. And Dan was tired, exhausted because he’d played football on the field a few blocks from his house until it the sky had darkened, until his classmates got picked up by their mums and the light rain had turned the grass into mud, covering his shoes equally as his hands and his red flushed cheeks from picking up the ball a hundred times. It was the last time that he played on that field, the last time that he picked up a football even.

Because as he stood in the doorframe, brushing a single wet curl out of his sleepy eyes, he

met her’s. “You won’t believe how much I’d love to slap you right now” her lips moved slowly, as if every single word was supposed to send knives through Dan’s grey pyjama shirt, puncturing his lungs and heart. Words that would leave scars on his wrists, words he would hear more than once.

He could still feel her cold fingers tightly around his little wrist as she dragged him along the floor. His feet tapped over the wooden floor, trying to keep up with her fast pace until they stopped in the entrance. Nails digging into his soft skin as she pushed him down onto the floor. His knees met the wood, his now free hands decelerating the abrupt fall. Panic grew in his chest when loud words, words he couldn’t understand yet, slapped him in the face with an intensely bitter smell. This person couldn't be his mum, it wasn’t, it couldn’t be.

She wanted him to see the mess he’d caused, but he couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t because it was all a dream, a nightmare.

And he prayed, prayed while doubting, while pressing his eyelids together, while holding in a scream as he got pulled up from the ground like a kitten by it’s neck. But he wasn’t a cat and it hurt so much that he threw his little hands behind him, trying find his mum’s wrist, trying to free himself from what he thought would kill him. And she did let go, let go to push him into his room as he stumbled onto his bed. He could still feel the soft blanket, he tried to find comfort in so desperately, between his fingers.

It was a huddle of insults and thrown objects, little hands covering his face in protection.

But it ended with a blue framed photo shattering against a wall, leaving a trait of blood and tears in the silenced room.

“Oh” Dan blurted, jolting out of his memory, as a sharp pain ran through his body. “Oh fuck!” he repeated as he wrapped his fingers around his wrist, staring at his hand gushing with blood and the broken glass on the kitchen tiles.

But before the noise there was silence.

Silence distressed Phil’s inner parts. It lingered palpably like the suspended minute before a falling glass breaks on the ground. The quietness resembled a vast void, waiting to be loaded up with sounds, words, anything. Toxic in it's nothingness, mercilessly underscoring how dull their discussion had progressed toward becoming, even though it was barely a discussion and just mumbled words of thanks. It was shockingly unnatural, similar to a day break without birdsong. Quietness clung to them like a toxic cloud that at any minute could stifle the life from them. Quiet saturated their each pore, similar to a toxic substance gradually deadening them from either discourse or development.

Silence was the most terrifying part, like the few moments before a bomb exploded and you’d rather have anything done rather then having to endure it, and it was almost as if he’d rather endure pain in the long-lasting moments, but when pain would form, he’d much rather endure silence, or absolutely nothing at all.

His eyes were fixed on Dan’s expression, noticing the pain crawl out ever so slightly from beneath his skin only to paint his pale face as he seemed to reminisce about something, an agonizing memory perhaps triggered by the dull walls of Phil’s home that were decorated with horrible, old and new artifacts visible to only those who experienced it, to those who found those artifacts in the first place.

Though Phil wasn’t going to assume because to him, assumptions were nothing but the truth, and he wasn’t sure if he was able to handle that yet.

He wanted to know what he was thinking about, what had caused such a calm visage shift into one stiff with tension. He wanted to hear something, an explanation that was too early to be said.

Though then again it was mostly an explanation for another, and that would mean spilling out his own life in return.

But he was pulled away from his thoughts when the sound of shattering glass hit the floor, scattering beneath their shoes that were years old and had ripped up fabric on the sides and furniture that was stained beneath the covers. Panic arose in his chest when his eyes fell on that familiar scarlet liquid that fell in perfect circular drops onto the wooden floor and stained Dan’s skin.

To Phil, it was so familiar and no more significant than the smell of roses.

He carefully but quickly took ahold of Dan’s hand and guided it to the sink where he turned on the cold tap water and let it wash off the thick liquid down the drain. His heart was beating fast as he watched the blood merge with water, swirling together into one as they made their way towards the exit. He looked up at Dan with his eyebrows drawn together with worry while he used his own hand to assist in wiping off the blood. “H-How did you manage to break the glass?!” He asked, very much concerned with what had just happened. Though the fact that Dan was able to break glass with just his hand made him anxious and afraid of him in a way.

But Dan was still in shock, shocked because his memory had overwhelmed him in such a short amount of time, that he lost all connection to reality. As if someone just cut the wires, leaving him in free fall, passing floor after floor until he hit the ground like a glass, shattered. He stared down at his hand, the pain growing more intensely as Phil’s fingers brushed briefly over the fresh cuts. He bit his lip, trying to keep in his shaky breaths.

He turned his head, looking at the shards and the patches of blood on the tiles. A mess he’d caused while being intoxicated, a mess someone would have to clean up after. He couldn’t help but feel the guilt boiling under his skin, where the anger had cooled down. Guilt that seemed to linger in between the gaps of broken promises he’d made to himself.

He wasn’t like his mum, he could never be.

He wasn’t full of anger that slipped when a bottle was pressed against his lips.

But now he stood there in a strangers kitchen and just wanted to run. Flee from what was about to come, from what was already going on and everything that still found its way into his mind even after years. He swore that he was more than that. More than his mother, than a drinking wreck with anger issues.

And that he would stop. Stop today, because he was already a burden to someone he didn’t even know. Stop and never touch a bottle again, because it would get out of control. He felt it slipping from his hands and he couldn’t let that happen. There wasn’t much to lose anymore, but the comfort in a stranger’s touch seemed to be enough. He doubted that their friendship, or whatever it was, would last, especially after today and certainly not after graduation. But as much as he despised it, there was hope that it would. That they would always have one another, like right now, like in the morning and the evening before.  

But hope had no space in between the guilt, the anxiety and the pain that made the air thick and hard to breathe. He turned his head back to Phil, who stared at him in worry with a vague hint of fear. And it might’ve been the alcohol still lingering in his blood or the loss of it, that caused dizziness to fog Dan’s mind and nausea to claw at his throat so suddenly. But a quick “I need to sit down”, that didn’t answer Phil’s question, escaped his lips as the water got turned off and droplets of blood kept spilling into the metallic sink.

Phil quickly nodded and held Dan’s hand, letting the blood spill onto his own pale palm as he led Dan towards the stool beside them. He sat him down and took a step back as so many thoughts raced through his head. Too many to handle. The liquid gushed with sickening determination from Dan’s hand, as if the only reason his heart was pumping was to pump all the blood out. And now Phil’s fingers were coated like caramel over an apple, only brilliant red instead of soft golden browns.

He rushed to the cabinet, shakily grabbing onto the handle and staining it before swinging it open, rushing as he searched for a clean kitchen towel. Once he found it, he shuffled back to Dan and wrapped it over the cut, pressing down on it as he watched the thick fluid spread fast on the fabric, it quickly darkening and taking on a brownish hue. “T-The bleeding needs to stop first before I can clean it for you..” He stammered, looking up at Dan with a slackened expression and eyebrows furrowed together.

 The dull, monotone kitchen had vibrant streaks of red now decorating it, streaks of red that would immediately attract attention from anyone. Much like how Phil attracted the eyes of mouths that whispered assumptions every waking second of the day. He wasn’t sure which though to stop on. Was it Dan? The blood? His parents? The man? Himself? They all screamed and begged for attention. They pleaded to be dealt with because everything was all too much.

 And as much as Dan added the stress, he never wanted to let him go. He never wanted to let go of the hand that gushed blood and stained broken skin. He never wanted to let go of the boy who sat in front of him, looking at him with a feeling Phil couldn’t explain but it was an expression he was too familiar with. And the blood didn’t bother him that much. He wasn’t repulsed by it. Because blood was as common to him as water, and he’d see and taste it so frequently.

 The most dominant thought, however, was how someone who looked as fragile and frail as Dan was able to break hard glass. He wanted to know what triggered the sudden strength and the anger that was well occupied by a melting pot of emotions.

Anxiety replaced the previous tears in his eyes from earlier, and it was clear on his face. With every breath, he’d become more jumpy and on edge. Every couple of seconds he’d flinch from the loud thuds of his heartbeat that he heard too clearly in his mind, the ones that made it so hard to figure out what to do next. But his eyes gazed into Dan’s, desperately rummaging for the glass bottle sealed with a cork that contained Dan’s story in it. Part of the story. Something that explained the blood and tears and alcohol that mixed with the metallic scent of blood, and the smell resembled that of a slaughter-house’s.

"I remembered something” Dan mumbled as his eyes broke away from Phil’s “But it’s not important right now.” The warm liquid was wet and sticky on his palm and the pressure of Phil’s touch was equally comforting and painful. The exhaustion that had followed him all day was now just inches away from closing his eyes. Heavy eyelids Dan wished he could just press together, but the adrenalin was still pumping through his veins. He wanted to lean into Phil, to just fall forward into his arms and sleep, but there was still the mess on the floor he had to take care of.

The embarrassment grew with each second that passed and small sorrys formed at the tip of his tongue, apologizing for being such a burden to Phil. If he could he would just rewind the past minutes, stop his memories from overtaking and the anger and frustration from building up until they were too much to hold. But it happened, he’d broken a glass with his bare hands and he couldn’t do anything but feel worse. He knew he wasn’t that kind of person, a person with internalized anger, losing control every once in a while.

It reminded him of his Dad, even though there wasn’t much to remember. He’d left when Dan was three or four, but there was still memory of him buried deep in Dan’s mind and he didn’t dare to dig it up.

Phil frowned and let out a sigh as shifted his eyes from Dan to the counter behind him, scanning over it for anything he could use to treat Dan. When he realized there was nothing, he took ahold of Dan’s other hand and placed it so that he was pressing down on the fabric instead of Phil. “Okay, um, keep your hand there and put pressure, okay? I’m gonna see if I have some sort of cream..” He murmured, voice calm even though he only felt like screaming out of frustration.

He then moved away from Dan, eyes falling on the bloody mess at the tip of his fingers as he walked over to one of the cabinets and crouched down beside it. After scattering the items in search of medication, dropping bottles and boxes to the floor in the process as well as coating those same objects with blood, he found the antibiotic cream he wanted and rushed back over to Dan.

Despite the consternation and clutter, he still knew what to do because he dealt with issues like this way too often for it to be something unusual in his eyes. And it wasn’t something entirely good, since it was fear that allowed him to gain the knowledge of how to clean cuts and treat bruises rather than going for actual help because no matter how much the skin underneath his clothes was torn and stained in colors multiple shades darker than his tone, he couldn’t ask for help and risk losing the questionable shred of love his parents had for him.

He carefully removed the towel off of Dan’s hand as he uneasily chewed on his bottom lip while upcoming steps stumbled over each other in his head. “The bleeding seemed to stop for now.” He muttered to himself and helped Dan off the stool to go back to the sink. “Rinse it off while I get bandages.” Dan tiredly nodded in reply, looking back down at his own hand as Phil went back to the cabinet where he surprisingly quickly found the box of gauze sponges and bandages. 

It burnt when Phil dabbed the cream onto the cuts, but Dan didn’t flinch. He’d felt that kind of pain way too often in the past years, that it could have any effect on him. Usually he wouldn’t take as much care of his wounds though and just either bandage them or let the blood dry on it’s own, forming a nasty scab he’d pick at. But now there was Phil, holding Dan’s hand gently in his, while his other took care of the cuts.

Dan was glad that Phil didn’t try to roll up his sleeves when he’d washed off the blood on his pale skin. But when he began to bandage his hand, the panic crept into Dan’s mind once again, holding his breath hostage. His eyes were focused on Phil’s movements as he secured the bandages position by wrapping it around his wrist, just inches away from the first scar. Dan felt the urge to tug his sleeve further down, but that would’ve made it too obvious. So he just stared at Phil’s careful fingers, using the little space his wrist offered without revealing any marks.

Soon, Dan’s hand was fully wrapped in white although the thick liquid seemed to seep its way through the fabric, but not enough to have it paint all of it. Phil let out a breath and practically almost stumbled back when he was done, breathing shakily as he tired to calm himself down. No words came out of his mouth because they were too busy occupying his brain in search of something to say but he simply remained quiet as he processed everything that had went down so far.

And it was a _lot._

“Thanks” Dan breathed as he pulled his sleeves over his hands, unsure if Phil had seen anything he wasn’t supposed to see. He still felt lightheaded, but he didn’t dare to ask for another glass of water and he was sure that it wouldn’t do much. His knees were still weak, but he could manage to stand with the support his hand on the counter.

“Sorry for all of that” he apologized, his eyes darting from Phil to the mess on the floor “I’ll clean it up.” The intended certainty was vague behind the drowsiness in Dan’s voice and as he was about to kneel down to scoop the shards with his hands, Phil stepped in.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to do that” he grabbed Dan by his arm, fearing that he would just collapse. His face and lips had lost their colour, pale beige and pink, just hinting that there could be blood still rushing through his veins. 

“I’m not gonna let you do that alone” Dan insisted, now facing the black haired boy and the concern in his eyes. He didn’t even want Phil to help, he’d created this mess and he was responsible for cleaning it up. He didn’t want to be more of a burden than he was anyways.

“We can do it later, you should rest for a bit” Phil tugged on his sleeve and Dan couldn’t do anything but give in and follow the slightly shorter boy down the hallway.

He didn’t deserve the kindness of someone like Phil. He didn’t deserve his care or any of his time. Dan never had anything positive in his life and now that he was so close to just giving up, so close to just ending something that never really felt right, he found something good.

He found something good in the eyes of a stranger, someone you wouldn’t hold eye contact with for longer than a second. Eyes seemingly as cold as ice, a thin layer covering a deep sea, but they were the sun, reflecting on the surface, melting and revealing more than dull blue. He found good in a stranger’s touch, his arms even, which felt more familiar than his mother’s. Phil Lester was something good and even if Dan’s mind tried to convince him otherwise so dearly, saying that he would leave, yelling that he would leave him more broken than before, Dan clinged to the good that lingered between them. 

It was small and fragile, cracking under the drama they both brought with them, under the pain and the heavy tears. But with each smile, each touch it seemed to heal and break again, over and over. It wouldn’t last, Dan knew, it was watery, not thick enough to paint over the scars and bruises that marked their skin. But it was good and Dan never had any good.

He wouldn’t call it hope, wouldn’t call Phil his savior even if he’d saved him so many times in less than a day. Hope was destructive and Phil was just a classmate, someone he’d passed in hallways, someone he’d seen break without even trying to pick up the shards on the floor.

And that had happened mutually, they both had seen the other in pain before, even if it was just assumed. They both were too occupied with themselves and everything that seemed to rip their own life apart, but the night they met, there wasn’t anything left.

The night they met Dan was empty. Hollowed out by the clamor he had to hear and the pain he had to endure all those years. Loneliness had only left a shell, marked with scars and bruises, slowly rotting as it walked aimlessly through the world.

And maybe it was the end he saw before his eyes, that made him walk over to Phil that night. Maybe it was the lack of care for himself, the point in living he couldn’t see anymore or the longing for something different.

He didn’t believe in fate or in god or anything that would have an impact on his life.

It wasn’t his destiny to find a broken boy on a dim lit street as he broke himself, it wasn’t his destiny to run into the same bathroom as tears dripped from their eyes and it wasn’t his destiny to find something good in a tragedy.

Because a tragedy isn’t a conflict between right and wrong, but two different wrongs, hoping for the right. And if fate existed, it wouldn’t create such a sad story.

  



	4. Chapter 4

Any trace of conversation was absent as the pair walked side by side in silence. They shared glances however, the occasional head tilt would accompany it in curiosity as well. The pain from one set of eyes would shoot itself into the other’s, blinding them of their original pain so that they only saw the agony of the person in front of them rather that what stirred and boiled on the inside.

Conversation was absent when Phil quietly led Dan to his dull room, a single ray of sunshine barely lighting the area through the spaced blinds on his window as it was engulfed in darkness before the room lit up with the flip of a switch. And his eyes would occasionally drop to the blood on his fingers that had seemed to dry up making it possible for it to almost flake off, but instead the blood of the boy beside him stuck to him and Phil wasn’t bothered. 

He’d seem to found a bit of comfort in whatever Dan did. He found comfort in the tears that spilled from his eyes, and he found comfort in the blood that dripped from his skin because it was sickeningly nice to know that someone cried the way Phil did and bled the way he did. He found comfort in the strong scent of alcohol that came off of Dan and mixed with the way he smelled of clean bedsheets and lilies. He found comfort in the barely taller boy whenever he’d wrap his arms around him on the side of the street or on the pavement beside it. There was even comfort present in the way Dan breathed, because he breathed as if it was his last when it really wasn’t, and Phil did the same. 

Though the silence they were in was soon disrupted. Disrupted by the faint click of the door downstairs, and the shuffling that joined it. It was disrupted by the distinct murmuring that increased in volume until it had turned into a loud “Phil!” that dripped with venom and of the voice of his father. 

And he’d so desperately hoped he was imagining. That this was just another hallucination that his mind played to mock his pain. That the swears and death threats were nothing but his head playing games. 

But deep down he knew they were real because as soon as he heard the door downstairs his reaction was to quickly close and lock the one he just opened after they were inside because he didn’t want Dan to get hurt. And he knew they were real when the footsteps that weren’t that audible became louder and more aggressive as they stormed towards his bedroom. 

He was certain it was real because his heart was racing as his body was leaned back against the door with his head tilted back and his eyes shut tightly, not wanting to look at Dan because he couldn’t handle to see the look on his face. 

Because what Dan was about to hear would confirm the assumptions, and the previous hand mark on his face would finally reveal its doer. 

There was silence once again, and it was uncomfortable as it went on for way too long. He tried listening, tried telling his heart to slow down and his lungs to pause their respiration so he could hear the eerily quiet footsteps that were roaming the hallways. And for some reason, he dared to look at Dan, and he saw a face of confusion and worry looking back at him. 

And as the words “It’s okay..” were about to exit his mouth, there was a hard pound on the door, causing Phil to jump and instead of those words came out a panicked but hushed yelp. And then came the wishing that he’d never brought his head back down to look at Dan and see the way his eyes widened with fear. 

Phil’s body had begun visibly trembling when harsh words such as “Get out from behind that fucking door!” and “I’m going to rip you to fucking shreds if you even think of leaving your room after this! I’ll do it, Phil! You know that I won’t hesitate!” and “Why the fuck is there blood everywhere?! Did you try killing yourself but unfortunately fail? Did you purposely rip open that sick fucking skin of yours again? At least clean it up! Open the door or I swear to God you’ll get something not nearly as bad as what usually happens.” pierced straight through the door and impaled his body, and he felt as if he was beginning to choke on his own blood. 

But he didn’t open the door when it continued to vibrate against his back with every violent slam of the fist. He stared at Dan as tears welled in his eyes that never fell while his father continued to bark words that should never be said by a parent, and Dan stared back with an expression Phil couldn’t make out from behind the blurred vision. 

 

But the emotions that rushed through Dan’s body weren’t blurry, the panic and confusion was almost too clear and intense, that it felt like the beginning of a panic attack. The loud and aggressive voice of the person behind the juddering door, felt familiar but strange. He’d heard the words that echoed through the room often enough, but they still made him wince every single time. And as he looked at Phil, sitting in front of the locked door, his eyes glazed with tears, he saw himself. Saw the nights he’d spent with shivering, leaning against a wall, enduring the insults of his mum, the bottles that shattered beneath his feet or right next to his head. He saw himself breaking, but it was Phil.

It was Phil who sat there, knees pulled to his chest, arms tightly hugging his trembling body as if he could save himself from falling apart that way. And Dan wanted it to end, to stop the yelling that hurt the black haired boy, stop the thuds against the wood that made him flinch, stop whoever dared to make Phil cry. 

But Dan was just Dan, scared and confused. The dizziness still making the world spin, worsened by the clamor from outside and the fear making him unable to move. God, he wished he could stop it, but with each and every yell he felt smaller. He knew that the person behind the door probably didn’t even know that he existed, but it was his fault. 

The mess was his, the mess that so clearly caused the anger in the stranger's voice. It was his fault that Phil had to suffer, that his heart cracked more and more under the pressure of the words that seemed to claw at the black haired boy, strangling him. 

So Dan sat down next to him, close enough for their sides to touch. He flicked off the light switch and drowned the room in the darkness, that was disrupted by the sun flickering through the almost closed blinds. He pulled his knees up to his chest and felt the vibration of the door against his back. Both looked straightforward, not daring to look at each other in fear of just breaking down. Dan pulled out his mobile and handed Phil one of the earbuds, who silently accepted the offer. Not a single word left Dan’s lips, even if there was so much he could say, the world was loud enough. 

The music started to play, the words barely drowning the clamor from outside. But it was enough, enough to slow down their heartbeat, to soothe the panic in their chests and shush the thoughts that circled in their heads. The situation felt too familiar, the fear, the yelling, but this time they weren’t alone as the soft melody tried to comfort them.  
And the music kept playing as silence filled the room.

Dan dared to look at Phil, his head barely turned as if the universe would tear apart if they moved too much. A single tear made it’s way down his cheek, containing so much agony that it seemed to burn the pale, but the rosy tinted skin of the black haired boy. Dan raised his hand and gently brushed his thumb over his face, catching the heap of pain and drying the glistening trait it had left behind. 

And as soon as Dan’s fingers tips grazed Phil’s skin, he immediately flinched and tensed up because he only expected his hand to roughly make contact across his cheek and yet it didn’t. In fact, his movements were ever so gentle and careful, and they didn’t leave a red mark on his face but rather they wiped away the results of that mark. And he was glad, relieved that for once he didn’t have to burst into tears when the hands of another touched him, because the only thing Dan brought was comfort. Comfort that Phil wasn’t sure if he wanted, really. Or maybe it was that he did want it, but he felt as if he didn’t deserve it.  
So he relaxed into the touch, and let out a soft, shaky sigh as he tried to control the tears that threatened to soak the fabric he wore and the thumb that caressed below his eyes. 

Hesitantly, Dan dropped his head on Phil’s shoulder, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt rubbing against his cheek and the warmth that radiated from the slightly shorter boy. He wrapped his arms around his knees and closed his eyes, wishing he could just escape. Escape this body filled with memories, memories that had left their marks on his skin and heart. He wished it wasn’t him leaning against Phil but someone else, someone who was strong enough to stay alive for him. Someone who wasn’t as broken, someone who didn’t share the pain in Phil’s ocean eyes. 

He wished he could just end his miserable life and meet Phil under different circumstances.  
Because Dan knew he would only hurt him, hurt him with all the problems he dragged along with himself, hurt him with his self destructive behavior, hurt him with the inevitable.   
Dan knew that he would spend the rest of his pathetic existence trying to save Phil from falling apart, because he knew that it was too late for himself. 

He pulled himself closer to the boy next to him as his eery thoughts dragged him into dark and cold places, not only comforting himself but Phil, who was still shaking as if the yelling hadn’t stopped yet. Dan didn’t want to think about the future, that he knew didn’t hold much for him. He just wanted to sleep, sleep with the thought of something good and the warmth that encased his body. Sleep until the intoxicants that he’d downed in the morning were barely noticeable anymore, sleep until the pain faded from Phil’s eyes and nothing but good, reflected from the frozen sea. 

And the song that was still playing and the exhaustion that overcame him quickly silenced his thoughts as he drifted to sleep. Knowing that in these seconds they were both safe, safe behind the locked door on the floor of Phil’s room, safe right next to each other just for now. 

Phil had seemed to stop focusing on the faint footsteps that would still pace by his room every once in a while and the livid conversations that circled about him, because all he focused on was the boy who was stuck beside him, head resting all its weight on his shoulder and breathing that had slowed down to a steady rhythm. So he also gently rested his head on Dan’s, closing his eyes as he inhaled and exhaled the scent of the curls right below his nose, swirling in the amenity that it provided. 

He never wanted to get off of the cold floor. He never wanted to lose the moments he was currently experiencing because he was terrified of losing them forever. That Dan would never rest on Phil again and Phil wouldn’t return that action. The Dan wouldn’t fall asleep beside him causing Phil to stay panicked forever. Because in those moments, Phil felt at peace. That his parents outside the confinement of his room didn’t matter, and that graduation didn’t matter either. That the blood on his fingers that once resembled his own as well never happened, and that his skin was never torn wide open with no hope of being stitched back together. Because with Dan leaning onto Phil, there was hope somehow. He believed in the stranger beside him. And he was desperate for that hope, desperate because if Dan wasn’t here, neither would he. So anything, anything to let him stay a little longer.   
And he found it.  
And as terrified as he was of losing it, he was equally scared to have it as well. It was only a matter of time until things went so horribly wrong.   
But for once, just this once he’d think about now and leave the future behind for a moment. Just so he can enjoy the presence of the boy beside him for only a little longer before it all came back down on him in shards that would puncture his heart and lungs and leave him lifeless for the vultures to feed on. 

And the low music continued to play in his ear, and maybe he wasn’t fully okay but he was okay enough. His eyes tiredly raised themselves through the blackness of the room to the window outside that shrunk his pupils as the rays blinded him directly. The window of which he sat on the night before, peeking down at Dan and wanting to go back to him, and there he sat now at the door with that wish granted. 

How wrong was it that he even wished it in the first place? That he wished the comfort of someone who should remain at a certain distance with limited interactions such as a simple high five rather than heads that rested on the other as sleep took over their body, or thumbs that wiped the tears at distances that were far too close and intimate. 

But everything was so wrong already in Phil’s life that it had started to feel right, and what was right felt wrong. So maybe it was okay to wish his thoughts, and maybe it was okay that one had come true. And perhaps it was fine to wish upon more and more, but that was probably a reach. Because moments like this always came to an end, much like everything else in existence, and wishes would come to a halt when they’d become too unrealistic. 

Though was it unrealistic to wish that he’d been taught that it was okay to dream? Or was that too right to the point where it was nothing but wrong? 

Phil had unconsciously began tracing random shapes along Dan’s thigh, humming out the melody to the song that was currently playing even though he was mostly listening to how Dan slept. It felt normal. As if they were just two friends even, not strangers, who happened to have a tiring day at school and decided to take a break. Not that only minutes ago were words that rung in their ears and tears falling from a pair of sad eyes attached to a sad body, and a hand that was bleeding onto kitchen tiles and cabinets and clothes and stained the skin of two rather than one. 

It was as if they were fine, and it would only take one second to bring everything back, but Phil had managed to stop time. Or was it Dan that stopped time for Phil? Or perhaps it was that they made each other’s problems nonexistent only temporarily because they focused too much on the eyes of the other and the words that were spoken through seconds of shared that eye contact.   
But he didn’t mind at all.   
Never would he mind the seconds spent staring at Dan, no matter the situation. Because Dan was simply so pretty to look at. He was breathtaking from the first time you’d lay eyes on him. He was a unique type of beauty, even when acid and saliva would drip from his mouth with his eyes bloodshot from toxic that he’d chug or from tears that lasted hours.   
Gorgeous in all forms whether inside or out, that’s what Dan Howell was.   
And Phil was afraid of never being able to set his tired eyes upon the only beautiful thing in his life ever again. 

The only thing he was sure of, however, was that he’d become attached to the warmth Dan provided. And Dan’s fingers could’ve been the coldest, but as soon as they’d graze against Phil they’d ignite a fire in him.  
Dan was the orange and red flames that flicked at his insides, and it seemed that there was no fire alarm present in his mind to warn him. He was very much aware to the point he rendered himself unaware of the fact that Dan could cause great damage despite him sleeping soundly next to him. But he was glad that the fire alarm wasn’t working because he didn’t want to extinguish what burned ever so slowly through his heart. It was the type of pain that you couldn’t feel at first because it just felt so good, and it was so wrong that he wanted to be engulfed by the blaze, but he couldn’t care less. 

The only thing he was sure of other than the fact that he had begun to develop a connection to the body next to him was that he was going to let the conflagration that he craved so dearly swallow him whole, and it was a thought that gave him peace as well while his mind faded off into rest until the two slept beside each other, with Phil’s hand resting on Dan’s thigh as he had forgotten it was even there, and Dan’s head buried in the crook of Phil’s neck and it was at those moments that the problems that they were dealing with weren’t there, and everything was okay. 

And somehow, it still felt okay when Dan opened his eyes again. And opening his eyes usually never felt okay, not even remotely. Usually, he’d press his eyelids back together, before the morning could get a hold of him. He’d roll over, wishing that it was Saturday, that there was no bottle near his urging fingers, wishing that his mum would sleep till noon, so that he wouldn’t have to face her dull eyes. Mornings didn’t promise him new opportunities when the sun cast a soft palette of pinks and blues onto the clouds, mornings struck him with the growling fear of repeated yesterday’s, another tiring routine which felt more than out of control. Mornings were filled with the stinging pain of fresh cuts and bruises and silent begs, wishing for a break. 

But when his eyes fluttered open, blinded by the low, orange gleaming sun, it wasn’t morning and he wasn’t in his bed. His head was still resting on another boys shoulder, bodies pressed together and loose arms around knees, except for a hand on Dan’s thigh, radiating heat equally as an unknown worry. Maybe it was the intimacy of the touch or the odd solace he found in it, that caused his brows to furrow. He didn’t flinch or move at all, with the boy next to him feeling just as familiar as his bed, his gaze lingering on the pale fingers for a while and his eyes desiring to close again. The slight pressure on his head was easily identified as Phil still being sound asleep against Dan’s soft curls. 

It took the brown haired boy a couple of minutes of drifting in and out of sleep, to notice that the music had stopped playing and he just assumed that the battery was dead. The silence didn’t bother him though with Phil’s slow and steady breathing being the only sound and, god, it felt way too casual. As if they’d always spent their afternoons like that, knowing the others touch just as well as their own, the rhythm of their heartbeat and their scent. Phil smelled like waves, softly weeping from the depth, twisting and relaxing as they lapped at the shore. The briny essence of the breeze mixed with the warmth of the low sun, melting vanilla ice cream. 

And warmth was all Dan could feel when his mind was still drowsy, not ready to let the darkness swallow him yet. Forgetting about what had brought them there, forgetting the blood and the yells, the tears and the pain just for a moment. Inhaling Phil’s sweet scent and the air that wasn’t filled with toxic fumes as his thumb brushed over the fabric of his jeans. 

He would’ve called his behavior pathetic if he’d been fully awake. Pathetic, because he seemed to falter under the comfort of Phil’s touch. Pathetic because he so dearly didn’t want to depend on anyone, but feared the universe would collapse when the thought of going home struck his mind. The word was on the tip of his tongue as he sighed softly, not thinking about the bizarre familiarity that seemed to flourish in his chest. 

Guilt and regret stretched their fingers, trying to get a hold of his sleepy brain, stroking it just briefly as a wrong movement caused a sudden sting in his palm, reminding him just for a moment of a shattering glass. He desperately ignored the reality clawing at him. 

It wasn’t morning and he would never have to open his eyes, that’s what he thought, or hoped for at least. 

But afternoons didn’t last forever either and their bodies weren’t just hollow shells they could dump when they were too damaged.   
And as the pressure on Dan’s head and the radiating warmth on his thigh were suddenly missing, he woke up. He lifted his head from Phil’s shoulder and stretched his back, blinking tiredly at the sun that crept through the blinds. The alcohol had left a hangover like sickness in the back of his throat, but it didn’t bother him much as long as it wasn’t accompanied by a headache. 

He turned to face Phil, who looked just as dozy as Dan felt. His black quiff, that had suffered under the day's events anyways, was now even more ruffled and a few wisps stuck to his forehead. But as he sat there in the golden light, his eyes glistening in a warmer shade of blue, he was nothing but pretty. Pretty because Dan didn’t dare to connect the word beautiful to a boy, but deep down he knew that it matched Phil entirely.

He wrapped his arms around his legs once again as his gaze was hooked to Phil’s face, watching as the pain of the hours before crept into his eyes. The world was quiet, but words still felt too strident to speak out loud. Cutting off the ropes that held the universe together, ceasing the comfort of the afternoon and hauling their minds out of the doze. 

Phil had felt the pair of eyes on him, analyzing him so intently. He waited a couple of moments before he turned his head, eyes that were fallen on their laps had been brought up to meet the dark pair beside him that had streaks of sun in them causing them to resemble a pool of honey. He was immediately captivated by the exhaustion in them, and it was as if he’d just met Dan’s eyes. That it was the first time they’d stared at each other. Maybe the lighting caused a change of some sort, gave Phil a different perspective of the boy in front of him. Or maybe it was that they were so close to each other, foreheads inches away and his hand urging to rest on Dan’s thigh again that just increased the intensity of his eyes. 

The wonders came back into his head only seconds after waking up. He wondered where his parents were, and wondered what they were thinking. He wondered what would happen if he were to open this door. Wondered if a pair of fingers would violently take ahold of the shell of his ear and drag him back down to hell where colours would stain his skin and mental walls would continue to break as liquid of all sorts oozed from his body in drops that would splatter onto the floor beneath him. Wondered if anyone would care if that happened, and came to the conclusion that they wouldn’t.  
He wondered how Dan would leave the room without being a victim of the hands that waited behind the door. 

Dan was going to leave the room.

Phil swallowed through his dry throat, feeling a pain when he realized there was a lump that prevented him to because of the very thin layer of tears in his eyes and that he’d begun to breathe a bit shakily at the thought of him being left alone. He didn’t want to be left alone now. It was too early. There only a day left till graduation until he was left alone forever, whatever “forever” was, and he just wanted to enjoy the temporary company.   
So he just wanted these moments to last a bit longer, wanted Dan to stay with him in this room a bit more. Just a tiny bit more so he could pretend to feel okay with the boy next to him who was staring right at Phil. 

But his lips decided to move without the consent of his mind as the words “Don’t leave,” came out in a croaked whisper, an even quieter “Please.” trudging behind it. And his words were full of sadness and desperation as he looked at the boy, with eyelids that threatened to close as they repeatedly fell open and shut in a lazy manner. There was no knowledge of the thoughts that traveled Dan’s mind, and it was possible that all he wanted to do was leave.   
Phil hoped not.   
He hoped that Dan wanted to stay as much he did. 

Was it okay to dream?  
He was afraid to. Afraid that with all this hope, Dan would leave anyway. And maybe today wasn’t the day they’d go on about their separate paths, but tomorrow. And because of that, he didn’t want tomorrow to come and he dreamed that he could stop time just for now. Just to keep the body that stuck to his and just to keep the eyes that he was so mesmerized with. 

Just one more day with the boy he’d grown attached to before everything came crashing at once onto his already weak body. That’s all he wanted. 

“I -” Dan began, suddenly blacking out as he realized that staying meant overnight. His eyes shifted to his hands, trying to find an answer in the empty room between his fingers, but all he found was uncertainty because he didn’t know the boy in front of him. Even if it felt like they’d met months ago, it was actually less than a day that had passed and suddenly, that was not enough time. 

Dan lifted his head again, locking with Phil’s eyes, banning the word beautiful from his vocabulary and only finding blue. But it was heart-wrenching to look at, blue and full of sadness and hope and pain and how could Dan leave him alone? And how could he stay?  
Stay with a stranger, sleep in the same room and tears and arms around each other as the pain of the approaching morning evolves. The morning without a bottle near his craving fingers, the night without wandering around in the apartment building, the evening lacking of slurred yells and feeling lost. 

And it sounded so good, but the oppressive fear of attachment, of being too close crushed the flourishing comfort in his chest so swiftly, that it swallowed the words on his tongue, drying out his throat and twisting his stomach. 

All he could taste was regret, regretting everything that had brought the two boys closer, regretting the shared pain and every little touch, because now that touch was acid, smoldering his skin. He regretted knowing Phil’s scent and the colour palette his eyes resembled because these eyes could be able to notice the cracks in his flawed heart.   
Dan urged distance between them because now Phil was just inches away and inches away from seeing all the things the brown haired boy hated about himself. Every little fuck up of his existence was right there, scars shattered all over his skin and the terrifying thought of Phil seeing him the way he saw himself, struck Dan’s mind like a lightning the ocean in a raging storm. 

What if felt like a pathetic excuse now, there were just facts, it was a fact that Phil would leave if he knew how fucked up Dan was. It was a fact that if he would stay tonight, Phil would see more than he was allowed yet. They knew so much already, assumed reasons for tears, bruises and anger. 

Dan caught his breath right before it escalated in hyperventilating as his teeth found his lower lip, grinding on the peeling skin. 

He didn’t want to leave Phil, didn’t want to face the morning alone, not the next hours. He found so much comfort just by looking at the black haired boy, even if that didn’t fully apply in these seconds. Comfort was connected to dread right now as if he just found himself in a trap. He knew it wasn’t, he knew that Phil didn’t have any bad intentions, but intimacy seemed worse than that. He could hate Dan, people did and it was validated by the loathing he had for himself and what the mirror showed him. He couldn’t have friends, he couldn’t be loved, he knew and he understood, even if it hurt so oppressively.

He just didn’t want Phil to hate him. He wanted to be as close as possible, but it felt like being close would eventually break them. And if leaving now would cause tears to well in Phil’s eyes, leaving forever would shatter the thin layer of ice covering the blue ocean of his. And Dan couldn’t let that happen and distance seemed to be the only solution to that.   
So he opened his mouth and stammered “I can’t”, before Phil could notice the shards that replaced his heart and grow attached to each little piece. 

And for Dan’s response was the exact reason why it was wrong to hope, and it was the long pause that he took to answer that explained why it was wrong to dream.   
Why did Phil even bother anymore? He’d never get what he wanted. Why did he even expect Dan to stay? Why had he expected him to stay in his house after such a little time of knowing him with the only time they touched being hesitating actions that were done solely for comfort and nothing more than that?

He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at Dan and he suddenly felt so distant to the boy even though they were glued together. “Why not..?” He asked, voice quiet and words breaking from the lack of previously speaking and the slight hurt he was struck with. 

It was stupid to ask why Dan wouldn’t stay. 

It was pathetic that he even asked in the first place. But he was desperate, and recently desperation seemed to control his thoughts and doings.   
They weren’t even supposed to have met. It was just a devastating chance that they found each other that night, both broken, and both needing a reason to not jump and it just so happened to be the other. It was a mistake that they did.  
Nothing more than something that just wasn’t meant to happen.  
Because as much as he wasn’t fine, Phil was okay with not knowing Dan, and now that he did know who he was, he couldn’t take his mind off of him no matter how much he wanted to. 

He was almost sure that Dan would leave. And he was sure that as soon as he left, they would never cross paths again.   
Because why would they?  
Phil shouldn’t have to mean anything more than a stranger to Dan, and Dan shouldn’t have to mean anything more than a stranger to Phil. 

Yet he did, and he hated that he did. He hated that Dan had begun to mean more, so maybe it was better if he did leave even though all he seemed to do was silently beg him to stay through painful stares filled with hope that he kept telling himself to let go of. 

And every second that passed hurt Dan, made him want to falter with every pained glance and every word that left Phil’s hesitant lips. But he was torn, torn between either staying with Phil, comforting him and feeling safe himself, or running, getting distance between them. 

Dan wished he could just choose the first option, just fall into Phil’s arms, but that exact thought was the reason why he couldn’t, it shouldn’t be an option to fall into a boy’s arms, it shouldn’t be an option to stay even, because the consideration of staying, staying overnight or staying forever was terrifying. Dan didn’t want to stay, he didn’t want to find something that would keep him here, something that would make him question all those dark, dark thoughts.

His mind was so toxic, so filled with negativity, that he didn’t even want to try to find something that would keep him here a little longer. Because staying a little longer, meant enduring the pain a little longer, just to face death anyways. 

And the amber sunlight enhanced the blue in Phil’s eyes so painfully pretty, that Dan just couldn’t let the words he felt on the tip of his tongue drip from his lips like cold rain. So instead he gulped, swallowing down the lies he’d planted and mumbled a small “sorry”, before getting up from the floor. He looked down at Phil who still sat there, heart shattering confusion adorning his face and Dan could see how dark clouds rose on the horizon, loaded with false assumption and agonizing thoughts. 

He knew that those clouds would spit rain, washing away the golden specks in Phil’s eyes and he knew that it might’ve been the last time that he would be this close to the black haired boy, but maybe that was a good thing.

Maybe it was a good thing to have nothing left, to be the worst you’ve ever been and to welcome the little bit of loneliness and pain that would finish the puzzle. And maybe it wasn’t. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school” he hesitated, a promise and a demand lingering in the seemingly so casual sentence. Assuring that he would show up and requiring that Phil would too, even if the evening threatened bruises, even if the night kept them awake and cold and even if the morning spilled alcohol on the floor. 

Never dream.  
And it only took the now absent warmth to confirm that in Phil’s head, and he had to accept it. Accept that Dan didn’t want to stay, and that it was meant to be that way.   
It was stupid to think that a stranger would spend the night in another, when the only reason they spoke to each other was because they were simply despondent and at the end of one’s rope.   
It wasn’t because they wanted to talk to each other.  
It was pity that fueled their words and actions, pity that if they thought too much would be reflected straight back onto themselves.  
So of course Dan wasn’t going to stay.   
And of course Phil wasn’t going to fight back because he already lost. He lost when he had to look up at Dan from the cold floor, and lost when Dan took hesitant breaths right before the words that Phil didn’t want to hear but knew that he’d have to anyways. Lost when Dan made the bold assumption that they’d see each other at school because now he had to show up. 

And now he had to walk Dan out. He’d have to open the door to the predatory figure that eagerly waited behind it to lay its hands on Phil and Phil would now have to protect Dan from those same bloodthirsty limbs.   
It was so much effort to stand up, let alone sprint through the house to the exit. The exit that he too could go out of, but didn’t.   
And he wasn’t going to dream of it, now he knew. 

So Phil stood up as well, looking up at the slightly taller boy from a much closer distance.   
And the air felt so cold. Too cold despite his skin that always seemed to be warm. Though he expected no heat from the atmosphere, only because his heat source had begun fading away. 

Shaky, pale hands were placed on the door knob as his eyes never left Dan’s, pathetic with his hushed pleads to stay. Terrified, that’s what he was. Trembling to the point where the metal that he gripped so tightly began to vibrate as well. And his heart, it beat so vigorously that it sent sharp pains pulsating in his chest. And that same beating muscle dropped to the pit of his stomach when the very faint click was heard and echoed through their silence. There was the creak from the old metal hinges that sounded so loudly, that Phil had shut his eyes tightly and he could almost hear the footsteps come up the stairs and he could already feel blood spewing out of him. 

Quiet footsteps made their way down the hall, and striking blue eyes darted their own home in anxiety, and you should never have to feel unsafe in between the mundane of your walls, but he did. 

And there it was, the sadly promising “See you at school.” That finally left Phil’s chapped lips that had gone dry from increasing amount of fear, and the words that had confirmed what he wanted to falsify. 

The entrance of his apartment had come to a close as Dan walked out, a close mouthed “Thank you for everything” leaving his mouth and was accessorized with a small smile that was more than depressing in its nature until the boy was no longer in sight.

He hoped that he’d be able to go back to the security of his room, but once again that hope only came to vanish into thin air when his eyes fell on the heinous pair in front of him and he could imagine them flicker to dark shades of a demonic black as they were nothing more than simply pure evil. 

But they only stared, stared for no more than a few seconds until the screaming had begun, and the blood he envisioned made its appearance in upcoming moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying the story so far! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated :')


	5. Chapter 5

The morning was just as cold as Dan had predicted and the bittersweet scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke lingered in the air. He didn’t touch the bottle that stood so alluring on his nightstand, even if he was tempted to, but toxic liquids just always seemed to creep into his nose. 

He’d promised himself he would stay sober today, he promised that he would go to school and god, it was the day before graduation, he had to go. Even if he’d spent the evening in the dim lit streets, walking aimlessly around passing cars as he wrapped his arms around himself, just wishing there was a shoulder occasionally brushing his. He had to go, even if he came home around midnight just to endure the slurred voice of his mum, not asking why he hadn’t been home all day, but why she had to listen to his teacher on the phone, saying that Dan had missed classes again. He listened to all what she had to say, standing in the doorway, eyes on the floor, defeated and tired. He didn’t even answer, not a word escaped his lips as the numbing feeling of something way darker than his mother’s eyes overcame him. 

And his emotions were still absent when his alarm went off in the morning. He couldn’t feel the cuts burned in his hand as the cold water washed off all the pain of yesterday, just to welcome another heap today. He let the water drip from his curls as he stared into the mirror, right through his eyes. And everything felt so dull, it felt like the world was desaturated, more than the day before and even looking into the mirror couldn’t give him a feeling of existence. 

He dragged the corners of his lips upwards, but there was nothing, his eyes were hollow just like his whole body was. Just a shell, just a body, just scars and bruises, cracks and shards. And he felt the mirror shattering beneath his fist, but he stood still. He wanted to break, break out of the prison his skin seemed to be, get control over his movements, scream when everything inside him did, but he kept his lips shut. His eyes lingered on something for a while, not actually focusing, before he turned around and left the bathroom. 

He wasn’t even thinking, there wasn’t even a huddle of thoughts distracting him from what he did, everything was just empty and his movement were too, as if he forgot that he was still alive and had to function. 

Nothing really felt alive, not the birds he heard chirping or the people he passed, everything has ceased to exist, everything was just as empty and numb as he was. The only thing he recognized was his own heartbeat and the steady but slow breathing he was aware of. 

He couldn’t be bothered to take the bus to school, there were just too many people he would have to envy, too much chatter, too much pretending and too many eyes that glistened with hope. He wished he could just yell at them, rip off their masks and cover his own face with them, mimic their feelings and their smiles. He wished they could see it, see how close he was to the edge, that he could falter at every moment and just surrender. 

The vague ache of despair lingered in the hollow shell like the last drop of alcohol in a bottle, unnecessary and unfinished. He wished he could just hurl the body of his against a wall, destroy the annoying rest of his pathetic existence, get rid of that last droplet that was left inside his soul and turn the cracks into shards, visible for everyone. He wished the feeling of feeling nothing would just fade like the fog on a mirror when the air cooled down, but it was already cold. He could draw smiles onto the surface, like he did on the cars window when he was a kid, but that smile was shallow. He could draw a thousand grins onto the mirror but in the end there would be the hollow version of himself, staring back at him like a nightmare, his sole escape being a fist.   
But Dan wasn’t a mirror, he wasn’t a bottle and nothing wasn’t the fog on the mirror after a hot shower. Nothing was nothing and Dan so dearly wished he was more. 

He sat down in the furthest corner of the classroom, his curls still damp and hanging into his drab eyes as he leaned back against the chair, apathetically staring at the wooden surface of the table. The occasional question of why he was even here and the silent desire of turning off the bright, yellow light, crossed his mind as all he wanted was to drown in the depth of his own soul. He wished for pain to flicker through his body as teeth idly scraped up his already sore lips and stopped, when he forgot that he was still alive. 

It was something usual that Phil was late to class, and it wasn’t strange that he always came in stumbling over his own feet in a hurry. Everyone had gotten used to it, so they never asked. But they did stare. He had always found several pairs of eyes scanning over his body, searching for something to later elaborate on in conversations that revolved about him and spoke stories that he wished weren’t true. And he would hear the murmurs about the blood on his sleeves that would accidentally seep into the fabric and become visible even through the dark clothes, or the fingerprints on his neck that were on display for everyone to see, and the words being said were never helpful.   
All they did was feel pity, say things like “I hope he gets better.” but no one ever made an effort to help. No one made an effort for Phil.   
Then again, how could someone help him if he couldn’t help himself? 

So he had grown into thinking that it was forever going to be that way. He was convinced that it would be. Because no matter how many times he felt soft curls on his face, or the skin of another brushing on his own, or the way his heat merged with the cold fingertips on a different hand, one not his own, no one would make an effort. 

And he was fine with that.   
Whatever fine had begun to mean. 

His existence was almost nonexistent as he made his way through the rows of desks with students who looked at him from the corner of their eyes, some snickering and some whispering words that he was too drained to make out. But with every breath the beings around him took, it felt as if the oxygen was being sucked out of his own body, and the only reason he tried to breathe was because his body forced him to, not because he desired to. 

Though as much as he tried not to, as much as he begged himself not to, he still met Dan’s eyes and he wondered why they looked so dead-tired. He wondered what might have happened to Dan the second he walked out Phil’s door and why his visage was painfully neutral. He wondered if Dan could hear the deafening yells as he walked away from the apartment. Wondered if he heard Phil’s whimpers and his father’s words as he did when he was on the floor beside him.

But the thoughts evaporated when Dan looked up at him, causing Phil to avert his attention to something else in a quick, panicked manner, anything other than the boy who he was supposed to stay away from because he had began to know more of the truth and less of the assumptions. 

He sat down at his desk, it being two desks away from Dan diagonally and it took him a couple moments to pull out his books from his bag because they were suddenly heavier than usual as he felt a stinging pain travel along his wrist at the pressure he applied and he bit down hard on his lip to prevent the cry as he felt few drops drip to the bottom of the sleeve, watching as the tiny parts of his black jumper that covered his forearm turned darker in color, an almost brown rather than red. 

And in a strained rush, he put his books down on the surface in front of him, letting out a quiet sigh and immediately tugged down at his sleeves, wincing as they brushed over the fresh scars.   
Two promises were kept in two days.   
One when Dan had found Phil, and told him to not do anything.   
And one when Dan made it clear that he’d see him at school.   
There was regret that he listened to Dan, a lot of it, but for some reason he was still here, still breathing, still functioning but he was on the edge, barely hanging on by a thing thread that had began to tear away, leaving him swinging beneath the cliff in the agonizing moments before the fall onto sharp edged rocks below.   
And if he made one movement, he could drop. Drop to what he wanted to get over. But there was Dan, repeatedly giving him new threads to hold onto, equally thin but new. Yet they tore so easily, so very easily that they didn’t last a second of being intact. 

Mumbles and mutters and whispers filled the room, breaking silence that was never there as they had developed into words spoken in laugher, giggles, and chuckles, and he wanted to clamp his ears shut, wanted to feel the fabric pain him and wanted to return to that silence because things had gotten too loud in such little time. 

Seven hours and he’d return to silence. But every second felt like centuries of internal war and he wanted it to end, but promises awaited him and denied feelings let it go on and on as he sat in silence, thumb gently rubbing over the pain in his wrist as he induced more, with judgemental eyes that glanced over his existence and only stopped to frown at him in sorrow, feeling bad for the person who took up space he never wanted to use. 

Dan’s eyes were still glued to the wooden surface as the bell rang and the other students rushed out of the room. The only time he’d lifted his head was when Phil had entered the class. It was just a second, but long enough to see the pain flicker through his eyes, through the blue and then it was over and Dan got lost again. Lost in the emptiness of his own mind and body, in his meaningless existence and every doubting question that came within. 

He dragged himself up from the chair, eyes lingering on the table before he lazily grabbed his bag and left. The conversations in the halls felt like background music, stifled by the bubble of nothing that surrounded him. Dan was used to being invisible to others, to simply not exist, but now everything was just a paper cut out in this two dimensional world, shallow and dull. He felt himself fade away with every step he took, with every shuffle of his feet along the tiled floor. 

The heavy weight in his hands seemed to pull him further and further into the ground, until he was swallowed completely by the tiring darkness. He would’ve sworn that he was dead already, if the idle sound of his heartbeat hadn’t pulsated through his head. He would’ve sworn that he was laying on the floor, if he hadn’t felt the floor only beneath his feet. 

He couldn’t remember what class he had next, but it didn’t bother him, nothing did. Because everything he cared about was gone, it never existed, there was no worry and no care there wasn’t anything left inside him except for that last droplet of despair. And he wished he would’ve downed that bottle of clear liquid in the morning, because maybe it would’ve filled the emptiness that rose in his chest with each breath he took. He wished he would’ve thought of the pills in the bathroom cabinet, just waiting for his desperate hands to get ahold of them. 

He felt deaf and blind and asleep, even if he was awake, walking through the illuminated halls of his school as laughter echoed in his ears. Maybe he wished that he was deaf, so that he didn’t have to hear the enthusiasm that the world seemed to deprive him. Maybe he wished that he was blind, so that he didn’t have to see the colours that once appeared so vivid and maybe he wished he was asleep, because even in dreams he felt more alive. 

But wishes were nothing but spoken desires, nothing but hollow words, the pathetic hope for something to happen and god, if he wanted to die he could. He could just run out onto the streets, to the nearest train station and step onto the rails. He could stay there and wish for a wonder, for hope that would fill his entire body until each and every dark thought would be banned from his mind. If he wanted to hope and if he wanted to stay he could, but he was torn. Each piece of his heart wishing for something else to happen and Dan was silent. He was numb and empty, nothing felt possible. He felt trapped without being able to escape, he felt trapped in his body and his mind, just walking aimlessly through his school, across the yard, because that was all he had control of, all he could do. 

And when he couldn’t even do that anymore, he just sat down. He leaned against the wall of the building, hidden from everything that told him that he was the only one feeling like this, dead and void. He pulled his knees up to his chest, like he did the evening before, but his hands laid limply on the ground and his head had no shoulder to rest on. He’d erased the bit of good from his life, even if it was there just for a brief second. He’d left Phil, because he didn’t want them to get attached to each other. Because Dan would fade away with time, break into pieces and leave without a last goodbye. 

But now he was detached from himself and the world. Detached from reality and every emotion that once was so overwhelming. He wanted to feel, he wanted to cry. He was drowning, suffocating and bleeding to death, but his body just sat there. He was invisibly dying and no one could hear his muted screams, no one was close enough to be near and no one was far away enough for him to break. 

Phil dragged himself through the hallways, pressing the soaked sleeve to his body having his arm wrapped around his stomach, flames of pain burning what seemed like third degree scars into his skin, and his other hand weakly rubbed the marks on his neck, his own slender fingers filling in the outline of a much bigger hand that had a grip on him the night before, cutting out the little oxygen he already struggled to deal with while his eyelids fought to stay open, and his waterline held back the leftover tears that always seemed to accompany his weary expression. 

Eyes everywhere, never leaving the body that was so familiar to the school but still unfamiliar to the students, even though it had been years that were spent staring at the same pieces that kept fixing and falling apart repeatedly, years that despite always staring, their eyes seemed to go through him as if he was nothing but a spirit summoned by teenagers messing around with an Ouija board you’d buy from Toys R Us. 

He was on the outside always looking in, tapping on the glass hoping that someone would just notice him for once, that they’d make an effort for once and that it wasn’t because of pity and anger that brewed beneath the pale skin in the bright red muscle that was covered by a protective layer and coated in blood that was meant to stay inside but was always outside like the body it inhabited. 

And he thought whether he could be more than he’d always been, tapping on that same glass with no response, waving through the school window but no one made an effort to wave back. There was no point anymore in trying to speak because no one would hear, and there was no point in waiting around for an answer to appear because all he did was watch people pass, and with that he’d experience nothing but neglect. 

He walked and continued to walk, not stopping because there was no destination. It was just to keep going, and he asked himself why. Why should he have to keep going when he could just stop? Stop right there and then. Stop in his tracks and stop in general. Though he found no answer in his mind that was full of them because everything mixed and tangled into a knot that he struggled greatly to untie. 

Somehow he always found himself back in front of what he regretted, and he couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not. And he couldn’t tell whether the reason why his heart was racing was because of the panic, or his classmate, or both. He waited for that answer to show up, watching as the boy across from him at a distance suffered from silent, agonizing thoughts that darkened the brightest room in less than a second. Lost, trying to be found in an ocean of people but not trying hard enough only to let himself drown.   
And so he found his lips curl into a small smile when their eyes met for the second time that day, wild strands of raven hair swaying in the cold breeze of autumn. Smiled through the sadness only to show kindness through never-ending pain that forcibly tugged down at the corners of his mouth, saying no to even the faux feeling of being okay.   
Yet he fought that and he smiled. A friendly smile that was not owned by a stranger today but a companion. It was faint, but he tried. Tried to say that it would be okay through the muscles on his face that moved with every emotion. 

It was so confusing. Confusing how his mind juggled two thoughts: One being that he should try with Dan, try to help and try to make things better, and the other that yanked his body back, yelling at him to stop trying and that the regret he felt now would be nothing compared to what he’d feel later. 

The smile that flashed back from the boy across from him was emotionless and very clearly forced, and even though he’d only known Dan for two days, he had never seen such vacancy in his eyes. There was the question of whether or not he should comfort Dan that bounced off the corners of his mind, the promise he made to himself that he’d stay away from Dan had began to fade away.   
Tomorrow. That was the day they could part their ways. It wasn’t two nights ago, neither was it last night, but the upcoming day that would drift them apart only to never interact again.   
He was afraid to hope for that, because hope didn’t bring him what he wanted but the exact opposite.   
So he didn’t hope, but only waited. 

He made his way over to Dan, forearm still pressed against his stomach sending a stinging pain on the skin that was torn open underneath the fabric that had been stained in darker shades as his other hand rubbed along his arm in a slightly nervous manner. He could change his direction. He didn’t have to go to him, but then he found himself standing in front of Dan who had seemingly dozed off as he stared at nothing in particular. And he was hesitant to speak to him, afraid of being ignored because of the current state Dan was in. But he was going to try, because that’s what mattered. Trying. 

“Are you alright..?” The words came out with a small crack when he finally spoke up after gathering courage in a small amount of time and after he shut up all the loud thoughts in his head that were pleading for him to change his mind, shouting at him to turn away and walk back to the class he was most likely missing. And his voice was quiet but loud enough to hear. It was clear he was worried, and the shyness very prominent in his tone. 

It took Dan a moment to realize that the voice wasn’t just background music, but a question he was supposed to give the answer to. His gaze shifted from the void to the boy in front of him, he lifted his head and their eyes locked. For a second Dan just stared into the worry filled blue, just long enough to get a sense of reality and stopped right before he got lost in it. 

His lips were too tired to move and his eyes were too empty to speak for themselves, so he just nodded idly as he wrapped his arms around himself. His mind was filled with everything and nothing at the same time, there weren’t really any thoughts but he was thinking. His brain kept replaying the same tone, like a needle on a vinyl, stuck in a loop of the same low sound, like a finger on the far left of the piano, lazily pressing down a single key over and over again.   
He forgot the melody, which notes he had to play, so he just sat there and waited.

Waited for whatever was about to come, for his brain to function, his body to listen and his life to make sense. He knew it didn’t, he knew that there was not a point in moving or breathing, there wasn’t a mission he had to complete or a reason for his existence in this eternal universe. His life was completely worthless, it would end and nobody would remember his name, not a single word that left his lips would remain in somebody else’s brain. So why would he bother speaking?

His eyes were now focusing on nothing again, staring into space as he felt each little stone of the wall he leaned against, piercing through the thin fabric of his sweater. Phil would leave, like Dan did the evening before, Phil would just turn around and walk away, return to the class that had probably started a few minutes ago. And Dan would sit there, on the soil that covered his black jeans in dust, sticking to the healing cuts on his palm. He would sit there until he couldn’t sit anymore and then he would walk, maybe not home, maybe just through the empty streets and halls. And when he would finally return to the hell of apartment, he would get asked again, not if he was alright, but why he’d missed classes again. More bruises would slowly stain his skin, more cuts would hide under his sleeves and more emptiness would fill his shell of a body, until not even despair would linger. 

Even if Dan would beg the black haired boy to stay, he wouldn’t. Because Dan didn’t stay either, their connection got lost as fear dragged him out of the strangers house, fear that was so destructive and loud. The fear of closeness had yelled at him to create distance between the two bodies that had already grown so attached. The thin thread between them ripped, just a day after it had sown them together. 

And Dan had heard the bawling from behind the facade of the house, the anger beating against the door bruising skin instead of wood and Dan knew. He knew that with each yell that sounded, another crack in Phil’s heart appeared, another memory got engraved into his brain and more blood spilled onto the already stained floor. And all he did was close his eyes as he stood frozen on the path. Listening to what he had caused, regretting that he’d left and screaming, because god, Phil already meant so much more to him. So much more than a stranger should mean to someone, so much more than he dared to think and so much more than the word beautiful described the black haired boy. He wanted to throw that door open again and drag away that person, that dared to call themselves Phil’s father. He wanted to yell at him, ask how he could do that to his own son, because he knew the great damage a parent could cause. Damage, that prevented Dan from doing the said actions, forcing him to leave with a muttered “sorry” that got lost in the clamor.

He had left Phil behind, left him for the pain to drown him, for the fists that would cut open his marble skin. He broke silent promises and spilled the last drop of good that was left in the pool of hurt and tears. And maybe that was why Dan was so empty now, because he’d left himself in the room upstairs, behind a locked door securing their safety, on the shoulder of a stranger. And if he couldn’t feel what he’d felt in those seconds of good, those seconds before the fear overwhelmed him and cut the the thread between two wrongs, he’d rather feel never again. 

A part of Phil had considered to leave. The part of him that knew what was supposedly best for him. The part of him that tried to protect him from getting hurt over and over again. His leg had taken an unconscious step back even, urging him to just go. To leave Dan by himself just like how Dan left him, even though Phil asking him to stay was irrational. 

But the other part of him felt like Dan had wrapped his hand around Phil’s neck and yanked him down towards him, begging him in invisible tears to stay even though the sight of the brown haired boy in front of him was too neutral, and the cries were somehow muted. He felt obligated, in a way, to be there for him. Because Phil had put him through so much the day before, and Dan didn’t deserve to hear his father yell hurtful words, and he didn’t deserve to see him in such a broken state, crying and trembling with fear. 

It was a pattern, really. That’s what he’d come to realize. The first time, it was Dan who was there for Phil when the world had seemingly came crashing onto the road he sat on, and then it was Phil who was there for Dan when his mouth spilled drunken words and liquids and sour acid and when his skin bled onto the furniture surrounding them. It was Dan who rested his head on Phil and spoke inaudible words that soothed him, blocking out the harsh phrases from his father.   
But then Dan had left.   
And Phil was too involved in the classmate in front of him to just let him go.  
He told himself to let Dan go through tears and blades that danced on his skin the night before, trickling red down his arm, dripping off his elbow and onto the white bathroom tiles.   
He could leave. He could leave so easily because he shouldn’t feel as if he had to stay because Dan was Dan and Phil was Phil and they shouldn’t feel anything towards each other because it wasn’t what they should feel and it would only result in more bruises and cuts to appear if the word had gone out. 

And people would talk between themselves, feel double the amount of pity when they’d see Phil standing in front of Dan, looking down at him with concern. They’d snicker between each other, ask who would go first. Place five pound bets on the two lives in front of them because it was just a matter of when. 

So now it was Phil’s turn again, to return the favor to which it might even be the last. His eyebrows furrowed together and his head shook a little. And then he found himself on the dirty ground beside Dan, their shoulders not grazing against each other because he was too afraid of the words that would slip or the feelings he would feel.   
Feelings that he wished they’d never develop, and they never even would have if Dan hadn’t found Phil. Instead Phil could be watching Dan from above rather than looking at him from the side right next to him on earth. 

Pain shot in his arm as he stretched it out to adjust the way he sat, and he bit down hard on his lip to prevent anything from escaping his lips that would indicate he was hurting. 

His eyes scanned over Dan’s expression, trying to read it as it was completely expressionless. And he felt those same tiny rocks pierce through his back just as they pierced through Dan’s.   
“You don’t look alright.” He finally said, words soft as they left his mouth and with that sentence his head tilted to the side a little to get a better look at Dan who was looking straight ahead but there was just a split second of visible pain that flickered through them and it ached Phil’s heart to see. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” He continued, and he wasn’t aware that he asked that until the last word came out. A mental hand slapped itself across Phil’s face, scolding him for even caring. But he couldn’t help it. And he hated to admit that he already cared so much about Dan but he did.   
And maybe it was okay that he cared, but it also wasn’t.   
Because good things don’t last and it was only a matter of when it would disappear. 

Dan felt the presence of the body next to him, but not the surprise that Phil didn’t leave. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, he did, but he was just too far from actually feeling it. What he did feel was the urge to rest his head on the shoulder that didn’t even touch his own. He urged the comfort Phil gave him, he urged the hours of them sleeping side by side in the low sun’s golden light. But he knew he couldn’t do it, he knew why there was a little gap between them and why there was a certain in distance in Phil’s voice. 

He’d pulled them apart, he’d ripped the thread between them by running away from attachment. And he was still running, running from everything that was awaiting for him, whether it was his mum or another hour of this numbness. This numbness that felt worse than pain, because pain meant at least that you were alive and Dan couldn’t even tell if he still was. His heart was beating, his blood still rushing through his veins, but there was no sense of existence. Of being a person. He couldn’t even tell if that was how he’d always been, just emptied out and cold. Maybe he was, because what person with a heart would’ve left Phil?

He could move, but everything felt just wrong, as if he had to lay on the floor, his cheek pressed against the soil and wait for his life to return. Every breath felt forced and he thought that if he would just stop inhaling in the cold air, his heart would stop beating. But his chest kept raising and falling and his finger kept pressing down on that single key on the piano. 

He didn’t know who he was or who he was supposed to be, all he could more or less think about was laying down, laying down and waiting for death to use it as a pathetic escape of this seemingly eternal emptiness, whether he was talking about the universe or himself. He wished he could just turn back time and stay right there in that room and stare at Phil, at the vivid blue in his eyes and the sun reflecting from it. At the messy quiff and the loose strands that stuck to his forehead. Feeling the warmth radiating from the body pressed against his own and the little bit of good that lingered in the pain and the hurt they shared and god, why did he leave?

Leave the black haired boy, who was sitting there next to him on the soil, close enough to see how hollow Dan’s eyes were, how dull the brown and how empty everything behind it was. The pain that flickered through the void every once in a while, when a single memory struck his mind for a split second. Phil could see the last drop of despair in the glass bottle, that escaped in the form of a silent tear, running down his cheek. Because they still shared pain, even if Dan couldn’t feel it. There was always pain shared between them, pain in form of muted screams and a lone tear or as blood staining a sleeve, bruises painted on pale skin or just a lip bite, suppressing the hurt in every movement. And Dan knew that he couldn’t escape it, because Phil already meant so much. So much that Dan just silently begged for him to stay, to help him find what he’d lost, to make him feel alive again. And he didn’t want to run from attachment, because he needed something to keep him here. 

“Can you just rant about something?” his voice was so hollow and monotone, that it didn’t even sound like him. It didn’t even feel like something he would say, because he wouldn’t, not in that situation, not when he knew how much he’d hurt Phil. He wasn’t in the position to request anything from the black haired boy, not even his company. He wanted to say no, he wanted him to leave, because then Dan could just fall to the side and lay there, breathing and dead. But he was still Dan, even if he didn’t feel like that anymore, he was still urging the comfort of a touch and a shoulder he could fall asleep on instead of the muddy soil. Breathing in the scent of the ocean as gentle fingers trace shapes on his thigh, causing something to flourish in his chest. A feeling he wanted to escape from, but desired so badly instead of the void. Instead of the shards that replaced his heart and the darkness that swallowed him completely, leaving nothing but a shell. And maybe solely Phil’s voice was comfort enough in those seconds, enough to distract him from the low sound of emptiness. 

Phil had followed the lone tear that dripped from Dan’s eye and attach itself to his cheek, and felt his heart crack at the sight. But he nodded with almost no hesitation at Dan’s request and took a few moments to think. He didn’t exactly know what to talk about really, because his entire life had been very much uneventful, and the only thing related to him that would spark an interest in people were the marks on his body and how fragile his state was.   
But he thought, dug through his head and flipped over parts of his brain that would somehow give him a memory. Something. Anything. Anything to get Dan to feel something because the null feeling wasn’t one he deserved to go through. The only thing Dan deserved was to feel okay, if not happy. And Phil felt that he should at least provide that.   
He didn’t expect to make Dan laugh, didn’t expect him to cry tears of happiness from not being able to breathe because he laughed so much because of Phil. Phil knew he wouldn’t be able to do that. But at least a reaction. That’s what he wanted. 

Five years ago, that’s what came up. He was fourteen and it was the first day of ninth grade. He wondered to himself how he could have even forgotten such an incident since it had been a lot during and after. He inhaled a little before he sat up straight, still looking at Dan with his head to the side. “Back in ninth grade, I got myself stuck in my bedroom for about six hours. It was very boring honestly, and I should’ve panicked but I didn’t.” He began, pausing a little to remember. “The only thing I worried about was going to the bathroom, because there weren’t any empty bottles so I had nowhere to go. I lived off of expired skittles that were in this really really tiny jar that had been in my drawer for like, five months.” The words came out so casually, as if nothing was wrong and he was simply telling Dan a story. He was telling Dan a small part of his life, sharing something about him that wasn’t traumatic.   
At least the parts he said weren’t. 

And Dan listened, listened to every word that left Phil’s lips. His eyes still a little lost in the void, but his mind full of the black haired boy. The story didn’t really matter, it wasn’t something exciting, but that made it even more special. It was just a rant and all Dan could think about was a ninth grade Phil, eating expired skittles and maybe that or the different, more casual tone of Phil’s usually so sad voice, tugged on the corners of his lips.   
He just wanted to hear more, more stories, more words. He wanted to know more about the boy next to him, because he didn’t know anything else at that moment, not even himself. He wanted to get a glimpse of shared happiness, just the slightest bit, just a droplet of good in the empty pool. 

Phil’s heart fluttered when the corner of Dan’s mouth curled into a very small smile. A reaction. There it was and Phil was surprised he managed to get one. He was glad he was able to see his lips drag themselves upwards in the faintest of smiles because that was enough. Dan didn’t need to say anything, and Phil was okay with that. “My door had to be broken down eventually. I was left without a door for like a month maybe? Or two. I can’t remember.” He continued and chuckled quietly. 

Phil didn’t matter in those moments beside Dan. The blood that had dried up on his arm and the burn that accompanied it seemed almost nonexistent, and that Dan was the only thing that existed. It was as if all of Phil’s mind was focusing on one thing and one thing only: Dan. It was rather sad and strange, how much his head seemed to think about the boy in front of him. How much he cared to the point where he didn’t even realize he had moved closer to Dan, the tip of their knees grazing against each other. And what was sadder was that Phil didn’t mind being this close to Dan. He never did. Because it could be an accidental touch even, and the warmth that would spread through Phil’s chest and body was pathetic. But he didn’t care. Didn’t mind. Didn’t care or mind when he should. He should move, go, run, something, though he never did. 

The only thing he did do was rant as he was told. Rant about the little things in his life that he could remember because everything else was covered with bad memories, toxic poison that was slowly killing him.   
He opened his mouth to speak again once he remembered something else. “When I was younger, like four or five years old, I used to eat all the Oreos at my grandma’s house. I wouldn’t leave a single packet. I’d always find out where she’d hide them and eventually she just stopped hiding them.” He said, smiling at the remembrance of his grandmother who had passed away not too long ago. The memory brought him sadness, but he was determined to leave out the negative part because Dan didn’t need negative. “Now I hate Oreos though because I ate so many. They don’t even taste that good.” He shrugged and let out a soft sigh, looking at Dan with a small smile, not daring to hope that he’d start talking because hope never worked with him. But he wanted him to say something, at least to tell him to continue ranting or not at least. 

Dan turned his head to Phil, eyes still a little watery from the lone tear that had already dried. He saw the soft smile on Phil’s lips, small but genuine enough for Dan to get lost in. He liked the way it’s corners curled up, it seemed so effortless, but Dan knew it wasn’t. His gaze shifted before he found a void in Phil’s lips to stare at and their eyes met once again. It always felt like a snapping lock, first, they were just looking everywhere and nowhere and within a second, with a faint click, they just saw brown and blue.   
Dan never really looked into someone else’s eyes, it made him uncomfortable because it was known that eyes were the window to the soul and he was scared what they could see in his. But when he found himself staring into Phil’s, he didn’t see his soul. He saw an ocean, an ocean of colours, of dark and light shades of blue, of the faintest green and the most mesmerizing yellow. And maybe that just was his soul, an ocean you could drown in so easily. 

And Dan wondered if all Phil could see was black. 

“They really don’t” his voice was still quite monotonous and distant, but the faint smile on his lips said otherwise. He felt the brief touch of their knees and the vague warmth that radiated from it, slowly spreading through his body as he wished there would be more of it. He wished there would be enough to make him smile properly, to fill the emptiness with something else, even if he’d hate that feeling, it was better than nothing. And there was still a lot of nothing in Dan’s mind and body.

He wanted to ignore the darkness that clawed at him, trying to pull him further and further into the hole he wasn’t sure of being able to escape from. He didn’t want to feel like an emptied bottle on a nightstand, waiting to get shattered against a wall, waiting to cut skin, waiting to draw blood and staining floors. Even if he didn’t feel alive, even if he didn’t feel anything at all, at least he wasn’t blind or deaf, at least he could hear and see the black-haired boy in front of him. 

And he kept listening as he tilted his head and rested it on his knees, he kept looking at Phil and his moving lips, his eyes which darted from Dan to something in the distance every once in a while, as if he could find his memory there. And for a moment it felt good to be attached to something, even if it wasn’t Dan’s own body. For a moment he could just smile, the corners of his mouth curling upwards whenever Phil’s did, whenever Phil remembered another story that wasn’t drenched in pain and blood. 

For those minutes he didn’t think about school, graduation or anything else a normal 17-year-old boy would think about and none of the stuff a normal 17-year-old wouldn’t have to think about. Not alcohol or alcoholics, scars or bruises that seemed to fade with each of Phil’s words. They weren’t two broken boys in that moment, they were nothing but classmates skipping a course they wouldn’t pay attention to anyways. And even if one was a little more empty and one a little more hurt than the other, in those minutes they shared nothing but a few childhood stories, a few small smiles and a glimpse of good.


	6. Chapter 6

The previous day had gone by in a blur. One second Phil was awake, dealing with physical and emotional pain, and the next he was beside Dan, telling him stories that weren’t the slightest of interesting but he wanted to do anything he could to help the boy who he shouldn’t care about, then he was back home to the familiarity of being ignored and alone, spoken to only to be used as a punching bag whenever his parents needed something to vent out on. That’s what he was to them, something that they could connect their fists to in frustration and draw blood. He wasn’t their son, just a mere punching bag for when emotions got too aggressive and voices had become too loud.

The current day’s speed was below average, and everything moved in slow paces. From the moment he had opened his eyes, dread had washed over him.

Because today was graduation day, and he was not prepared at all.

He wasn’t prepared to let go of the routine he went through every day. And no matter how much he’d been wishing to leave the hell-hole known as his home, he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay within the unsafe walls, because he was almost sure he’d die immediately on the outside. It was as if he’d rather be yelled at constantly, having his hands clamped over his ears with tears streaming down his face as his body shook against the wall than live on his own.

Because living on his own would mean being fully alone, and as much as he was used to that, he’d also gotten used to the deafening voices outside his bedroom door. It was strange, the way he felt. He should be relieved that he was able to leave. But he wasn’t. And he had broken down into tears when he’d been dragged into the car by his mother who gripped his forearm tightly, throwing him into the backseat as he fought back to escape like a child throwing a tantrum.

Absolutely pathetic. An eighteen-year-old boy sobbing because he didn’t want to go to school. His father yelled, telling him that wasn’t how he should behave, and that it actually didn’t matter how he behaved anymore because Phil wasn’t their responsibility anymore.

As if they ever treated him like a responsibility in the first place.

They treated him like a rag-doll, tossing him across the room to their own sickening amusement. And they bruised the doll, tore the fabric open and didn’t bother stitching it back up. And the doll had become tired, weary and sad. It aged though it was still new, so very new and not deserving of what it was put through. Something that could’ve been kept in perfect condition if it was only treated right.

But it wasn’t. Phil wasn’t and they didn’t care.

They were okay with that, and he had grown to be okay with it too. He was used to it, and Phil was just Phil, their “son” with no voice to speak up because he’d be shut out too fast, shut up with a mouth full of metallic blood that dripped from his chin and a bottom lip that split open and swelled.

So he sat in the back seat, thoughts going over what had happened only ten minutes before leaving the house, tears rolling down his cheeks and staining his graduation gown as occasional whimpers escaped his quivering lips. Nausea snuck its way into his stomach and his throat, but he swallowed down the acidic mixture, grimacing at the taste. And his heart was pounding way too damn hard to be considered normal. It felt as if it was beating not in his chest but in his throat, suffocating him even more than he already was. But his eyes had shut tight, and he hoped that when he opened them he’d be in his bed and it would be yesterday and not today. Though he bit down hard at his tongue when he realized that the thought of hope dared to cross his mind, and now he was sure that when he opened his eyes he’d still be in the car, parents ignoring speed-bumps and the outside moving faster than it should.

He had to get himself together. He needed to. His classmates already saw how weak he was, and they didn’t need to see Phil in his current state on the last day.

Sense of relief greeted him when he remembered this was the last day he’d see his classmates, but then pain overpowered the relaxation when he realized it was the last day he’d see Dan.

Ignore the thoughts as they aren’t important because Phil wasn’t supposed to be attached to Dan since there was no such thing as “Dan and Phil” but simply “Dan” and simply “Phil”. That’s how it was and always would be.

He didn’t dare to hope.

He didn’t dare to let the word graze the side of his brain even.

It wasn’t long until they arrived to school, and Phil had made sure his tears had dried up and that his messy, black hair that’s strands fell on his forehead looked the slightest of presentable. Maybe he’d be able to deceive the people who were no longer his classmates that he had made an effort, but the tiredness in his eyes and the stumble of his walk with the nervousness in his voice said otherwise.

Everything was going to be _fine._  

And even if it was going to be fine, for Dan, it wasn’t in those moments. Not when he walked home after school, after he couldn’t hear the comforting words of a black haired boy anymore, after he couldn’t feel his presence right beside him and not after he left his smile on the soil, leaning against stony walls.

As he walked home, he felt the life slowly pouring out of his veins again, slowly but steadily. It dripped on the floor like the tears he wanted to shed, but couldn’t, like the blood that still stained the hoodie he wore the evening before when a paper thin metal grazed against his skin. Sticky blood, thick and haltingly pouring out of the burning cuts. He’d watched it with lazy eyes until the scarlet line reached his palm as he sat cross-legged on his bed, the dim light of his nightstand lamp casting shadows on the white walls. He’d watched his arm laying slacky in his lap and raised it when the warm liquid stopped flowing down his wrist, just to get a closer look at the dark red substance that he’d drawn.

There was nothing as he stared at it, he felt the burn that urged him to press his fingers on the wound, but he just stared, because the burn was nothing he wasn’t used to. He couldn’t feel relief when pain made him flinch as the cold tap water got mixed with blood a second time that day. He knew so well that each and every scar on his arms didn’t help, they didn’t take any pain away, they didn’t made him _more_ than before because the second the blood stopped pouring and his sleeve hid the massacre underneath, it was as if it never happened.

And as he walked home from school, after he’d listened to Phil and each and every word that left his lips, he stared at his feet, that dragged him closer and closer to the building he grew up in, knowing that he’d just pulled his sleeve over his arm once again, as if it never happened. He was back to emptiness and nothing. To silence and dull colours that so provocatively attracted his attention, just to show him how useless they were and how colourblind Dan was.

He’d walked up those stairs, eyebrows furrowed, trying to think about the words that were able to tug on the corners of his lips just moments ago, trying to find the comfort in them once again, but his own thoughts could even ruin innocent childhood stories and soft chuckles.

And he didn’t wait until the sun had disappeared and left the world in darkness to unlock the door to the flat he’d spent all those years in, because _when_ didn’t matter, he would always come home. He endured the same procedure of the days before, listened to the insults and the shattering of meaningless objects. He stood in the middle of the living room as his mum let all her frustration out on him, blaming his existence for everything that went so horribly wrong. Dan didn’t say a word, but even his silence was reason enough for his mum lay her fingers on him.

And as much as his skin burnt under each hit, all he could think about was that he would graduate only in the company of the bruises she left.

He thought the same thing when he woke up in the morning after staring at the gown that laid so neatly folded on his desk, waiting to be worn for the first and last time, until his eyelids got too heavy for him to fight against. He didn’t want to sleep and he didn’t want to wake up, but he did and he threw the gown over himself, just to look into the bathroom mirror in disappointment. There were no hands on his shoulders, proudly realizing how far he’d come, how fast the years had passed and how fast he grew up. He was alone as the November sun rose and a broken boy stared back at him.

And he left the apartment just as alone, with tears glazing his eyes, tears he so dearly didn’t want to drip onto the velvet fabric, ruining the pride that should linger in the seam. But the pain that radiated from his chest as he closed the door behind him with a soft click, closed his eyes for a second, tightened the grip around the doorknob, broke his heart all over again. He wanted to wake his mum and beg her to watch him graduate, beg her to be proud, beg her to take pictures and beg her to be his mum just this last time. They could fall apart after this, he could just vanish from existence when the last bit of purpose he had left, the last responsibility he so often disregarded, would disappear with a handshake and a piece of paper. But _god_ , in those seconds he wanted nothing more but fall into his mother’s arms one last time before the world would end.

But he couldn’t, he was seventeen and he was about to graduate with a hundred of others, still feeling lonelier than he would ever feel, when he reluctantly exited the building. Each and every pair of eyes that laid on him, as he walked through the streets in vague nostalgia, pierced through the dark material, cutting open his skin and he feared bleeding out before he could reach the school. Hope faded with each step, each thought and each meter that closed the distance between him and the building he would enter for the last time. Hope for change, that wasn’t really there or believed in, equally vanished with nonexistent confidence and volition. He wanted to escape, escape from the future, from the gazes, the thoughts and the desire to feel the comfort of another boy’s arms.

Dan wanted to die just then and there, in the neat gown that wasn’t stained with tears or blood. He didn’t want to come home to a mother that wasn’t his mother anymore, but an alcoholic tearing him apart piece by piece, without being able to be blamed for his breaking. He didn’t want to question anymore if people only got what they deserved, because as much as he was certain that he deserved the pain and suffering, he was sure that Phil didn’t.

The eyes had never failed to pierce their way into Phil’s body, slowly tearing the skin off of his pale body and letting it fall behind him, completely exposed in the worst way possible, and it hurt _so_ much. Judgement was what came towards him. There was the absence of a  sense of pride. No love, no care, no happiness as he walked towards the auditorium. Hours had turned into minutes, and every second that passed sucked the air out of Phil’s lungs.

His eyes were downcast as his parents followed behind him, putting on faux smiles as they also attempted to trick the others. But everyone knew the truth and why Phil constantly tugged down at the sleeves of the dark gown he wore, though no one bothered to help.  Hours left until freedom that would eventually treat him so terribly and push him down to where he wouldn’t be able to get up, face stuck in a barrel of water, gurgling it as he struggled to breath and there would be no one to pull him out.

But he was used to it, right?

He desperately wanted to go back home. To leave, leave everything behind and let himself rot in the mildly comfortable sheets of his bed that had been so constantly stained with tears and blood and emotions as well as none.

The stiff arm around his shoulder from the father who had a forced expression of smiles and the arm that was disgusted to be around his waist from his mother made Phil feel as if he wanted to tear his hair out, to just burst into tears because as soon as those arms touched him, he flinched and felt so much pain from such a gentle, delicate touch.  But the touch was far from comforting, and it caused fear to arise in him. Because there was not once that his skin wouldn’t bruise when his parents laid a finger on him, and he wondered if such soft gestures would cause darker hues to paint his skin, darker and darker with every minute they pretended to love their one and only son.

And as the thoughts continued to fill up his mind, he felt a pounding in his head, and tears threatened to fall. Visibly sad eyes that increased pity and scoffs around him. He didn’t expect himself to stop walking when he did, and he felt the grip on his shoulder tighten, and the look in his parents’ eyes was of a familiar disappointment towards him.

“I-I don’t want to do this. Can I please go back home..” He whispered, head hanging low when he winced as the sharp nails of his mother dug into his side, most probably leaving bright red marks and tiny scars that would draw a bit of blood but still burned.

“Is there something wrong with you?” Replied his father, voice aggressive but was a whisper in his ear. “Don’t you think you disappoint us enough? And you want to go back home? How pathetic can you even get?”  He continued, and every word felt like thumbtacks being slowly pushed into Phil’s heart and his nails were too short to be able to pull them out so they just remained, pain increasing with every pump of blood that just wanted to burst from the small holes that resulted from the puncturing.

No one heard the words being said, but they knew from the way Phil’s expression shifted into one that was fighting so hard to not spill shameful tears, and no one stepped up to stop it.

Reluctantly, he continued walking, and Phil spotted Dan, the same amount of pain that flashed between them on the night that they met flashed again at that moment. And how badly did Phil want to release himself from the controlling hold of his parents and just run up to Dan, wrap his arms around his shoulders and bury his face in the crook of his neck to let the tears that he fought himself for to just stream down his face, staining both robes that symbolize happiness rather than sadness.

But he couldn’t, and all he could manage to do was a silent call for help that would most likely get lost in the loud laughter and pride of parents to their graduating children, and hold eye contact with the brown eyes that he could spend hours staring into.

And Dan stared back with the same intensity, the same sadness and the same desire, until Phil broke away to shake someone’s hand. Pride adorned the faces next to the black haired boy, nodding happily to inaudible questions regarding their son, who’s smile could easily be flagged as false. A hand on a shoulder, a tight grip around his waist and Dan couldn’t even remember the rumours, as if the Phil he’d met three days ago was someone completely different, but it was so clear that Phil didn’t want to be there. Not in the hold of his parents or stupid white lies that Dan could almost hear, just by watching how their lips parted. Because his lips parted the same way when a teacher asked where his parents were, his teeth flashing a fake but assuring smile, “oh, they’re on their way.”

But the minutes passed of Dan just standing there, waiting for no one because he, and probably everyone else, knew that nobody would show up for him, that nobody would smile proudly, even if it was fake. And he felt so out of place between the chatter and laughter and more or less happy families. He was utterly alone as the ceremony was just minutes away from beginning, anxiety shaking is body as his fingers dug into his upper arms, trying to find anything but emptiness.

His eyes got pulled out of the void he was staring into as he saw Phil suddenly standing alone, his parents just meters away, talking with another woman and her daughter. Dan wanted to walk up to him even if he couldn’t wrap his arms around his neck, just hearing Phil’s voice would remind him of what he was able to feel. But the second he could get his trembling body to walk, Phil began to run. Not towards Dan, not right into his arms, not seeking the comfort Dan so desperately urged, but in the opposite direction. Gazes following the fluttering robe through the huddle of people as the brown haired boy just stood in stunned silence, eyes immediately darting to the two persons he already had a loathing of. They didn’t move, one raised an eyebrow and the other just shook their head almost knowingly, as the facade they’d built crumbled.

But Dan didn’t wait for them to smile again, to find an excuse for Phil’s abrupt disappearance, he rushed past them as he shot an unacknowledged, but disgusted glance towards them. The sudden anger that boiled beneath his skin made him want to yell what he couldn’t two days ago, tell them how much they’ve fucked up, but first he had to find Phil.

It didn’t take long as the only place that wasn’t flooded with people were the school’s halls and it didn’t take long to spot the black haired boy pacing back and forth either. “Phil?” Dan approached slowly, his eyebrows drawn together in concern.

At the sound of Dan’s voice, Phil stopped in his tracks, but he still anxiously tugged at the fabric on his chest, mind still racing with thoughts that he struggled to get ahold of, and he desperately wanted to just tear the material in between his fingers off of his body, but he didn’t. His thoughts were like destructive toddlers, running around and breaking things and no matter how hard you’d yell, they’d laugh and mock you and continue to increase the agitation until you simply gave up.

He turned around and faced him and then it was just the two of them in the quiet hallway, away from the place where they should have been, and away from the parents that had showed up and from the parent that didn’t bother to. It had only been the two of them recently, and they always found each other at their worst moments. And maybe that was good, that they were no longer alone.

But Phil was so afraid of having someone, afraid of ruining them just as he ruined himself. Afraid of not being able to make them feel good, but increase the negativity in them.

And much like how he surprised himself by stopping beside his parents, he also didn’t expect himself to practically speed-walk his way over to Dan, almost tripping over the robe that trudged behind him and lightly grazed over the dirty floor, and throw himself on him, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him close against his own body that he hadn’t realized was shaking. His fingers curled tightly around the cloth covering Dan’s back, and a terrified lone tear fell onto Dan’s shoulder. They both stumbled back at the collision of two warm bodies that should never collide with such intensity, such emotion that should never be acknowledged in a way that was so _wrong_. Though he didn’t care.

At least, he didn’t know if he did.

And Dan didn’t either, not when he felt the grip around his back or the fingers grasping the fabric of a gown he didn’t deserve. Because everything was already wrong, everything hurt and everything tore them apart, how could something that seemed to be the only good in both of their lives be so wrong. And in a way Dan didn’t care, in a way he just seeked comfort so desperately that he wrapped his arms around the trembling body pressed against his own, but as he did so he knew he shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t get attached to something that wouldn’t last, something he couldn’t feel forever, something he shouldn’t feel at all.

“Hey” he mumbled softly into Phil’s shoulder, feeling the pain flicker through them both, back and forth. Hey, because falling into each others arms seemed to be their greeting. A greeting to the agony, to the comfort and the fear that came within. He could melt into the hug, into the warmth, that filled his empty and shivering body as the cold november air seemed to last forever. But he couldn’t melt, couldn’t fall into the boys arms, because one of them would break away and one of them would be left laying on the floor.

“I want to leave..” Phil whispered, voice cracking because he didn’t dare let anymore tears fall. Dan’s robe didn’t deserve to be stained with additional sadness because it already wore so much. “Everything’s so much, everyone’s so _fucking_ happy. Everyone’s going to go on and be someone and I’m going to stay here and be no one. I have nothing. I don’t want to go up there because I don’t deserve to. I don’t know what to do..I really don’t..” He rambled, not thinking about the words he was saying at all and just let them roll out of his mouth and clash together in between shaky sighs and words that would shatter mid-sentence. And Dan’s shoulder felt so warm against his cheek, and so did the arms that wrapped around his body in return, and maybe that’s why his words seemed so messy.

The taller boy made him feel safer than he’d ever been. Made him feel safer more than his own parents ever had or could.

But this was going to end, and this would be the last touch of comfort they’d ever share, and Phil wished that he knew Dan for more than 3 days because it torn his heart into shreds knowing that he would never hear his voice again when the sun rose from behind the mountains the next morning indicating another day that he forced himself through.

“You deserve to be up there, you earned it” Dan assured, his voice kept down as if the walls could hear what they said “But we can leave.” He wanted to leave just as much as Phil did, because he feared that nobody would applause for him, he knew that nobody would be proud. He really tried to convince himself that he didn’t care about the whole graduation thing, but he wished he had a reason to care about it. A parent to convince that he was more than a disappointment or just friends to celebrate with. But there was no such thing, his mum was hungover as he was about to begin a new chapter in his life, his dad somewhere slowly forgetting about the son he once had and his only friend being the boy in his arms he didn’t dare to call more than a classmate.

Dan felt utterly alone and he knew he would break if he heard the bright laughters of families cheering for their children, the chatter about colleges and jobs or just the question where his parents were one more time. The only reason he was there was because he didn’t want to face the consequences of not attending to his own graduation, but he wouldn’t hesitate to leave now. Now that he’d seen the parents with their children, now that he’d felt the panic grow in his chest with each passing second and the loneliness increase with each glance thrown at him. They all knew how alone he was.

And there was also Phil, the boy he’d watched standing there with his parents, the people who occured in rumors, who Dan had heard yelling, seen their grips tighten and their smiles falter in disappointment. He could almost feel the slightly shorter boy’s heart pounding against his own chest, the sadness and the suffering pumping through his veins. Dan wanted to stop that, stop the pressure, the anxiety, the pain even. Help him escape every stare and every word he shouldn’t have to endure, because Phil deserved so much more. More than walking onto the stand in front of hundreds of people in a gown soaked in despair and tears. He knew he couldn’t offer anything, he couldn’t soothe his aching heart, but if Phil wanted to leave, they would leave.

So Dan let go of Phil just to look into sad and weary eyes and stammer a little “Let’s walk.” as the warmth lingered for no more than a fraction of a second. He knew missing the ceremony would bring consequences, maybe too many to even return home that night or the following one, he would have to listen to teachers that weren’t is teachers anymore, a mother that wasn’t his mother and shattering bottles, that were nothing more but the introduction to his new chapter. But it didn’t if Dan couldn’t stay for Phil, he could at least leave with him.

They both walked through the halls, close enough for occasional shoulder brushing, occasional warmth flickering with bittersweet comfort and the precarious urge to grab the others hand or at least the fabric of their dark robe. It almost felt relieving as it really wasn’t a relief when so much more suffering awaited in the coming days or just any moment that wouldn’t involve them walking next to each other. It was wrong to fear something that would happen so certainly and they both knew, but they also hoped it wouldn’t. As if it wasn’t the last day of school, the last time that they’d walk through the usually crowded halls, passing room after room that were connected to nothing but bad memories.

But just as much as Dan tried to ignore the finality the day brought, the nostalgia of a bit of good crept into his mind as they passed the music room. The room with the grand piano in the middle, the one Dan was allowed to play on during the breaks when he was younger, in seventh grade maybe. And it was a weird sadness that struck his mind as he saw it standing there, not once played by him again as school began to feel like hell without an escape. He still knew the songs by heart and he still wished he would’ve gotten piano lessons. But that was over, just as much as the time he had spent at school, being stared or laughed at. It was over like the moments he had passed Phil in the hallways, not looking up once. And it was over like the passing seconds, the beginning of the end, the first words of a new chapter, the last chapter.

And Phil was also staring at the lonely piano, a grand structure moulded in the center of the room; all shiny and pitch black with a very thin layer of grey dust coating the top. There was the row of pure ivory keys that marched into view, the same white keys that he had heard faintly in the distance as his mind came crashing down on him on a normal school day during the minutes of break that they had. And though currently, the sound - no matter how distant it was in his ears - gave him just enough comfort as his lungs struggled to function beside Dan, fingers barely twitching as they attempted to grip the other’s. The keys shimmered from the light that reflected off of them as if they were a moon on a starry night; bright, beautiful, and breathtaking and it was amazing how equally breathtaking, bright and beautiful were the moments where he’d hear the unknown person play.

Along the wood that lines the top of each key, curling gold letters spell “Steinway & Sons”, such a beautiful name and so elegant and expensive. Perfect and graceful like the music that it created.

One of a kind.

The grand piano that sat at the center of the room, and it had been years since Phil heard it play.

He turned to look at Dan, the sad expression on his face was that of somewhat nostalgia, and he wondered what the boy was thinking as his lips curled ever so faintly into the smallest smile at the corner of his mouth but how his eyebrows furrowed as well, indicating pain that never left him.

Thoughts, and thoughts, and thoughts that never wanted to leave. Thoughts that had only one goal of bringing them further down, giving them no chance to speak up as they grabbed them by the throat and pulled with force.

He wondered what the the brown haired boy was thinking, but another thought came up as well. And for some reason, he just had to ask.

“Do you know how to play?” Phil questioned, referring to the aging piano in the room that’s legs revealed the maple wood beneath the painted black, dull but in a way more beautiful than any engineered product could be. Dan turned to look at him, his expression shifting into a relaxed one as their eyes met, and nodded without saying a word.

There was a silence as Phil thought of something to say and as they stared at each other, feeling the hands of judgement grip at their faces, squeezing their cheeks and trying to turn their heads away but they still remained, gaze locked and surrounded by nothing as well as everything.

 _They_ were nothing, but they were also everything.

“Could you play for me?” He then asked, and there was a sudden coyness in his words, as if he asked such a big of a favour that he felt bad even asking for.

Then again, Dan being beside him was a favour he felt bad for asking for.

And his question was followed by a slightly panicked “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s really fine.” when he saw Dan become marginally nervous.

Though he hoped Dan wouldn’t say no, and that he could hear the keys being played one last time, just to feel that same peace from five years ago when he felt as if everything was doused in gasoline and burst into flames, the flames that were initially caused by the parents who they themselves ignited the matchstick and threw it onto the flammable liquid of a yellowish but dirty  hue and left Phil to burn alive, letting the red beneath his skin be the first layer people saw as he walked around completely exposed, mind scorched from the fire.

The thing was, Phil didn’t even know if Dan properly knew how to play. He didn’t know if it would be equally stimulating as what he had previously heard, and he didn’t know if he’d ever even feel that again. But just something, even if it was the tune of a children’s nursery rhyme being badly played due to the forgetfulness or the tune of Happy Birthday that was learned simply by ear and not with actual notes.

Just something, because at this point anything was enough.

Dan stared at the grand piano in front of him, in the classroom he would never enter again after this day. And even if he could just sit down and play the melodies that still lingered in his mind. If the keys he needed to hit were memorized by his fingers, that sometimes imagined a wooden surface to be the white and black of a piano, when he was spaced out and the music played in his head. There was hesitation in his voice as he turned to Phil and “No, no it’s okay, I can play for you” escaped his lips. And doubt grew when he sat down on the old leather stool and patted the empty space that was left next to him.

He could mess it up, he could’ve forgotten everything he taught himself and got taught by the music teacher and Phil would hear. Dan would get too stressed, his fingers too fast, his hands too sweaty and he would hit the wrong keys, ruining the nostalgia that filled the room, ruining the good memory of the melodies, proving that it has been more than a year since he’d played, proving that he couldn’t anymore. But he wanted to try, wanted to see if he was able to remember the songs he’d played until he didn’t anymore. Until him playing the piano in the music room got acknowledged, until it wasn’t a safe place anymore. And he forgot about it, he forgot about it as smoking cigarettes replaced the relief that the music brought, until alcohol flooded his veins instead of the soft tunes.

“I haven’t played in a long time.” He stammered, his fingers grazing the yellowish keys, wondering why nobody had closed the fallboard to prevent it from griming. But the damage was already made, so he just carefully wiped off the dust, causing not a single tone to disturb the silence. The urge of just saying that he couldn’t remember any piece hammered against his chest as his teeth began to grind against his lower lip. His fingertips hovered above the black and white, waiting for a signal, but he felt the eyes of the boy next to him on his hands and he didn’t know if he could move. He felt the warmth of the body that was pressed against his own, as the stool didn’t offer much place for two. He felt Phil’s thigh against his own, his shoulder and every touch felt judgemental. As if Phil was only there to judge him, to judge his playing, but he know he wasn’t. A dozen songs crossed his mind, but none of them seemed to be enough. He pondered on all the mistakes he could made, all the sorrys that would leave his lips whenever he missed a key and the importance and finality this moment brought.

But his fingers just set down on the keys, slowly beginning to play a melody he’d spent hours on learning. A sonata he’d found between hundreds of other sheets, unknowing of the meaning of its name as he never learned how to speak french, even though it was so fitting. A poem of another summer, of a childhood buried in oblivion. He didn’t forget the anxiety that made his heart beat faster than it should, but the tones were so bittersweet with the gentle pressure of his fingertips, that it almost felt like yesterday that he’d stared at the complicated piece on the paper, trying to figure out how to bring them alive. Waiting for the lessons to pass, while scribbling the letters above each note, because it was so much easier that way.

And now Dan didn’t even have to look at the sheet, the sheet that most likely got torn a long time ago when it had no use anymore. The room was filled with the melancholic melody and the nostalgia that came with each tone, burning lightly beneath his ribcage, wishing dearly for the moment not to end. For those being the last minutes of break and not of his graduation. Not of _their_ graduation, not the last time that he could lay his fingers on the black and no longer so white keys of the grand piano in the music room. But school was over just like his childhood and his mum hadn’t been there to witness either ending as she caused one to be too early and one to be too final.

As the notes hit Phil’s ears, he was transfixed on the beauty of the fingers dancing on the ivory keys. The dark brown, wispy hair from the beautiful face moving with the unnatural wind every time Dan would turn his head only barely to find the specific key he played so perfectly. With each slight nod of his head, his spirit became almost an aura and it was as if the keys, to Dan, were a touch of a lover.

The music soared through the air like an eagle on an up-draft, taking Phil’s soul with it as well as he carefully listened. It ascended in a magical flight to the very few clouds that floated in the rarely clear sky, a breathtaking melody of orchestral exuberance. And there was the genuine, sentimental smile that turned the corners of his mouth upwards, and his fingers would unconsciously graze over Dan’s and his own thigh, tracing nothing in particular but it was just like the way his fingers would move years ago when he’d hear the familiar melody, calming him in between choked out sobs that were always ignored.

It occurred to him that it was Dan that brought him comfort five years ago. That it was Dan who would play the keys ever so gracefully, letting the sound vibrate through the school’s walls, allowing it to be muffled once it reached Phil but it was just enough. At the time, he never knew who had been playing, but he was always so thankful that someone was. But he never went to check because he didn’t want to disrupt the melody, and he didn’t want to bother whoever sat at the piano that was new at the time,the piano that was taken care of as it should’ve been.

It was Dan, the same boy who sat next to him. The boy who sat so close and whose posture was upright as his fingers caressed the ivories in just the right way, not once faulting and it seemed so effortless even though it had been so long since he’d played. The boy whose thigh was what Phil felt underneath his fingertips, until his fingers moved up to his own face, wiping away the single tear that slid down his cheek in unison to the music Dan wove so fine, a joy that was beyond the limits of sadness. The nameless music. Dan’s music, which Phil hadn’t heard ever since seventh grade. It came to him in waves: first, innocent memories, dreams that turned into struggles perhaps too quickly and into his own vascilitating existence, and then, sharp joys, sorrows, despair, a negation into nothing. His own death, the feeling of his total agony turned into beauty, an anguished harmony without light.

The pair never spoke at the time of when they were younger. They only exchanged accidental glances that lasted for less than a second, and they never fully realized the pain that each of them went through. Though despite that, Dan had still managed to help Phil and neither of them knew it. And maybe if Phil had just went to check who was playing, to check who frequently calmed his nerves, they would have known each other for five years and not four days. Maybe things would be better then, perhaps that’s why he had begun crying as he listened to Dan, or maybe because he was able to find out who the mysterious person was before he graduated, and that he properly acknowledged the feelings towards him.

Through the tears, Phil was smiling wide, heart beating fast and chest in pain at how incredibly talented Dan was and how much emotion washed over him in only minutes. It was as if everything went away, and it was just them with their surroundings as a blur, a transcending experience. Finally, after the exhausted experience, as the last beautiful note hit and a resonance filled. And the soul that had ascended after the crescendo had came diving back down, giddy and breath stolen from his body, until all that was left was the silence there was at the beginning seconds before Dan had begun to play.

A breath of air was both replaced by joy and sadness. A relief but a longing.

His fingers stopped tracing over their legs, and his hands came together in an applause, until he used the sleeves of his robe to wipe his eyes, staining the fabric but he had stopped caring at that point. He looked at Dan and for once, he looked at him with happiness, as if he had never felt pain a couple minutes ago, because he finally heard him play clearly, not through walls and agony. An almost excited, “That was amazing!” came out from him, but a quieter and shyer “Thank you.” followed it, the smile never leaving his expression.

Dan lifted his eyes from his pale fingers as a smile tugged on his lips and an unwelcome heat flushed his cheeks. He didn’t want to turn his head, because all he did was play, hitting black and white in a memorized rhythm. It wasn’t amazing, it wasn’t much of an effort and it wasn’t worth applause. But as much as Dan wanted these words to leave his parted lips, he knew it would only end in a back and forth of yes’s and no’s, so he just said “no problem”, daring to meet Phil’s eyes. And Dan couldn’t even ask why there was a tear dripping from the black haired boy’s jaw, why the movement of his fingers had drawn a glistening trait down the boy’s cheek. He just knew that it wasn’t worth a single tear and still, his smile didn’t vanish.

Because as much as he discredited himself, as thick as the layer of self hatred was, he knew that he’d caused Phil’s lips to curl up. He knew that the melody was a little good in the mist of agony and his arms urged to wrap themselves around the body next to his, still touching, still close enough to share a little bit of comfort. And happiness almost felt in reach as if he could just play song after song until they both would burst into laughter, until there was a heap of good and not just a whit. Maybe this day didn’t have to be the last, maybe tomorrow would bring more than tears and pain. Maybe this wasn’t final and not another ending Dan had to face alone. Maybe it wasn’t the last chapter of a book no one dared to read, not even himself as flipping through the pages would cut his fingers, staining the lines with thick red until they weren’t legible anymore. Maybe this was just another verse to a following hundred. It had to be, the next day had to offer more than suffering, than loneliness and the desire of alcohol, of an end.

But the happiness that grazed them both as silence filled the room and the bit of pride that lingered in the remembrance of the melody, faded with the resounding echoes of cheers, of a voice clanging through the speakers outside, right behind the walls. It was still the last day of school and it was still an ending. It was his name that got called by the principal, it was his name that was written on the papers and it was his graduation as much as it was Phil’s. And he knew nobody was waiting for him to walk up on the stand, nobody was there to applause and nobody was there to shed a tear, because he grew up so fast. Nobody had expected him to graduate, to care and yet he could. He could fake a smile and take what he had earned, even if he didn’t believe so himself. Because all he did was play to the rhythm, a melody torn and replaced by cigarettes and scars. He could’ve dropped out, but he owed himself to try and he did, but still, there was no point in playing one last time, when nobody was there to applause.

So when a whispered “stay” drowned the noise from outside, he answered with “I will”, even if it only meant for a second.

 

  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a longer chapter so get comfy PFF

“Do you think you’d ever miss school?” 

A question that hung in the air occupying the little distance between their bodies as they walked side by side on the pavement, arms brushing against each other from time to time, and a question that left Phil’s mouth with no clear answer on his perspective either. He turned to look at Dan when the question was asked, seeing the other pair of eyes downcast as they thought. 

Phil wondered if he’d ever miss school. It was a question with a yes and no answer. No, because school had done nothing but bring him pain, and it only made things worse and worse.   
But at the same time yes, because even if it did hurt him, it was a routine. It wasn’t new. It wasn’t change. But now he’d have to adjust. Adjust to a life where things were different, with feelings that he hadn’t experienced yet, and it was no longer a routine to get hurt because he was free.   
And he wondered if being free was a bad thing, but that was another thought for another time. 

“Maybe“ Dan answered truthfully, a puff of breath leaving his quivering lips. Maybe he would miss it, not the stares, not the tiring lessons or the stressful exams that had caused sleepless nights and a lilac shade to appear beneath his eyes. He wouldn’t miss the walks to school, the rumors echoing through the halls or the insults that were thrown so carelessly at him. 

And maybe he wouldn’t miss school at all, because the only positive thing about it was that it wasn’t home, that there wasn’t his mother yelling at him or bottles shattering against a wall. Maybe he would miss that school was some sort of shelter for him, even if it brought so much pain, so many memories he wished he could leave behind. But even if the loneliness had wrenched his heart when he heard the laughter and chatter around him, it never hurt as much as sitting in his room, drunk and cut open, did. 

“I don’t know, maybe not, will you?“ he continued, his fingers digging into his skin as the cold November air encased his body. 

“Maybe.” Phil replied with a shrug and let out a tired sigh. A car had drove past them and his eyes followed, burning into the metallic frame of it as it faded into the distance, before the two crossed the road to go to the other side. “It’s weird that I would miss it. I think it’s better than just being let go? Now we have responsibilities..and other things that I don’t want to think of currently.” He let out a sad, short chuckle as he spoke, looking at his surroundings as well. 

They walked on the street where they had first met because it was a main path to his house, which was somewhere he really didn’t want to be, and Phil furrowed his eyebrows, but he continued walking while pushing the memory into the back of his head. 

“Do you have any plans for the future?” He then asked, looking back once again at the boy beside him, admiring the way the sun reflected on his skin, enhancing the freckles scattered on his cheeks. 

The word future had something so absurd to it that it tugged on Dan’s lips ever so slightly. Future meant nothing to him as he couldn’t even see himself being alive past the night. He couldn’t see himself applying for a job he would never attend or ever falling in love when everyone that came close enough to see the emptiness behind his eyes would leave before they could drown in the void. 

It made him want to ask Phil if he was kidding, but he knew he wasn’t. It was just a simple question that was usually answered with ambitious dreams of college degrees and picture perfect families. Dan wanted to chuckle because as much as he couldn’t see a future for himself, it was always on his mind with each passing second and if he wouldn’t laugh he would probably cry. 

“No, I-“ he hesitated, stopping himself from filling the air with his self-deprecation that always resulted in suffocating silence “Not yet, do you?“   
“I don’t,” Phil muttered, thinking a little after he spoke. “I don’t think I even had one to begin with.” He shrugged, the corners of his mouth turning upwards into a small smile. There was nothing funny about it, it was more of a smile that represented how disappointed he was in himself, and the disappointment that left everyone’s lips whenever they laid their eyes on him. Disappointment in himself because everyone had a plan, and everyone knew what they wanted to be and where they wanted to go. Everyone but Phil, that is, and surprisingly, he wasn’t alone with that because apparently Dan didn’t have a clue either. 

They had grown closer to his house, and the amount of anxiety had begun to increase pretty rapidly. He didn’t know where his parents were, and he didn’t want to see them either. He didn’t want to start his new journey with cuts already and bruises already. He wanted them to fade away, but scars were scars no matter how many years passed, and pain was still going to remain even after he had said goodbye. He wanted to go back to the street that they had left and fall down on it with Dan’s chest pressed against his back, tears dripping but despite that in those moments everything seemed okay. 

Now, he’d be lucky if things were to be okay, because they were only minutes away from his front yard, and another car had drove past them when he saw those older, familiar eyes of the strangers who he dreaded glare at him.

“Were your parents at the ceremony?” He then asked, a question that might’ve been far too personal to answer, but it seemed as if they were nothing but close these days. 

Dan lifted his head to look at Phil, their eyes locked for a brief moment, long enough for him to decide whether the blue was trustworthy. “No they couldn’t come“ he muttered through the urge to lie and say that they just didn’t stand with him, that they arrived a little too late or greeted a few teachers. 

But he’d already seen Phil’s parents, had heard his dad yell, seen his mum fake a smile and them both torturing Phil silently. There was no point in lying, he knew, he hoped Phil wouldn’t look at him with a raised eyebrow and judgmental eyes. They both had fucked up families and pitch black futures. Dan couldn’t say that he trusted the boy next to him when only three days had passed since their first interaction and all he could think of was the loathing Phil secretly must’ve had for him, the annoyance that came within, waiting for Dan to finally leave him alone. But he liked the warmth that swept over to him whenever their shoulders brushed, he couldn’t push Phil away. 

And Phil only replied with a simple, “Oh” because it wasn’t his place to know why, though he knew they should’ve been there for his son on such an important occasion, even if the two thought it wasn’t important at all. 

“Sorry for the question, but could you give me your number?“ his heart thumped against his ribcage in fear of the answer that could leave Phil’s lips. The chuckle that could accentuate how absurd the question was, how wrong it came out and how idiotic Dan must’ve sounded asking it.

He dug his fingers deeper into his skin, piercing through the thin fabric of the dark gown. He didn’t even know why he’d asked it in first place, maybe because he could already see Phil’s house at the end of the street, because these were their final minutes as they wouldn’t meet in school again. 

Dan wanted to retract the words that had escaped his mouth too fast to consider the consequences, but the longing for more of those minutes had drowned the anxiety that now suffocated him as the daring question echoed through the empty street.

Perhaps it was too quick when Phil replied “Sure” to the point where he even surprised himself. He hoped that it didn’t seem too desperate, the way the response stumbled over his lips and came out in a blurt that his own eyebrows furrowed and he scolded himself internally. He didn’t even think, and he didn’t know if he regretted agreeing, but it was new, and at that second he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind the way their fingers brushed against each other lightly when they exchanged cell-phones, and how their contacts were now added into the other’s, them being a single text or call away though neither of them knew if they’d ever take advantage of that. 

It was new because instead of just having the number of his parents’ and a couple family members, he now had Dan’s. A friend’s, if that was safe to call him. Or just an acquaintance.

He wasn’t sure, but it was Dan’s, and maybe that’s why it meant so much, and that the feeling of hesitation wasn’t as strong as their previous encounters and the touches that they shared together, both purposefully and accidentally. 

And as they gave each other their phone back, a gentle smile tugged at the corner of Phil’s lips. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint why, but it was there, and it remained when his eyes met Dan’s and he said “There”, slipping his phone back into his pocket, and just a bit beyond Dan was what his eyes attempted to ignore and what he so desperately wanted to avoid. 

“Thanks“ Dan breathed, his lips curling into a small smile. He mindlessly pressed the button on the side of his phone as he looked into the pool of colors that Phil’s eyes offered, before turning around. 

He wasn’t sure if he would message Phil, if he would ever click on the contact that wasn’t hard to find in between the few of former classmates he hadn’t talked to in months or years. But having the opportunity to reach the black haired boy was enough to make him feel a little bit of good. 

As if there was now an actual connection between the two as the one they had before ended with their graduation. Maybe he would never call Phil and the past days would slowly fade into oblivion as both of them did as well, but now there was the option of still staying in contact. The chance to hear the others voice when their own thoughts or the clamor behind locked doors needed to be drowned, when the urge of comfort struck them in sleepless nights of walking through dim lit streets and cold hallways. 

“I have to go home“ he paused as they stopped in front of Phil’s house. Dan didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to go home and endure what was about to come on his own. He didn’t want Phil to be alone either, having to sit on the floor in his room without Dan by his side as the bellow from outside his locked door caused tears to well in his pretty blue eyes. 

But Dan had to leave before a desperate “stay“ could wrench his heart, because he couldn’t be there forever, not even for the night. It was attachment what he craved so dearly, but Dan wasn’t attached to anything, not even life.

“Call me if you need anything or if you just want to talk“ he begged quietly, because “see you tomorrow at school“ had no use anymore. 

Phil nodded, and though he felt strange that someone cared, he said “I will.” Though then again, Dan could’ve simply said that to be kind. His mind was torn on that idea, the idea that sometimes kindness could be genuine and not forced. And it confused him, it confused him that why wouldn’t if be forced and simply out of pity? That the second their backs turned to each other, Dan wouldn’t delete his number off his phone. But part of him knew that wouldn’t happen, and the other part, the more dominant part, was convinced it would. 

And before Dan could stop himself, he found his arms wrapped around the others back, his eyes closed when he breathed in the faint scent of the ocean. Beseeching that Phil knew that he wasn’t alone as he tried to convince himself that he wasn’t either. 

But he didn’t tell him, he had already said so much wrong and he feared that he wouldn’t be able to let go, because even if this moment didn’t have to be the last one, it still was a goodbye. And goodbye’s between the two could always be final. 

“Call me if you need anything or just wanna talk too, okay?” He then mumbled into Dan’s shoulder as he wrapped his arms around him, the doubt of before almost fading away as if it was never there. He didn’t think when he said “I’ll be there”, his voice soft beside Dan’s ear, and he might’ve held on for too long, or too tight, and that was exactly why he never wanted to let go. And to that there was a faint nod from Dan, a short movement against his own shoulder. 

It was at then, his body pressed up against Dan’s, when it didn’t cross his mind that his parents were lurking behind the windows, the view on the inside blocked by the opaque drapes. And that the second his hand would touch the door knob, he’d be dragged inside and flung to the floor, already bleeding without the blade having to touch him because words were more than enough.   
Perhaps they were too much even. 

But he couldn’t hold on to Dan forever, it simply wasn’t right. And so much like everything else, the moment linking them together had to end, and now their fingers ran down the other’s forearm, wanting to just grasp onto the sleeves as their arms rested back to their sides, a distance between the two had returned. 

“Bye, Dan.” 

A pause, and a jolting pain through his chest at the words he was obliged to say. 

“Bye, Phil.” 

Maybe it was another way of saying “see you around” because they had always seemed to find each other even after goodbyes, but it felt way sadder than that, and it felt way worse than that. 

Their backs were now facing each other as Dan and Phil walked in opposite directions, and a second without the other led to the walls inside their heads immediately crashing down into rubble. And now the distance kept expanding even though all he wanted to do was stitch the space back up between himself and Dan because now his hand rested on the cold, metallic door knob to the entrance of his home. 

A faint click, and the immediate stomping of livid footsteps. 

A quick slam of the door shut, and a faster movement of his legs as he sprinted into the other direction. Not towards Dan, and not inside of his house. Away from them both and away from the voice that shouted “Don’t even try to fucking come back, understood?!” through the halls, away from the sound of shattering glass, away from everything and down the stairs of the building until he was now outside, panting and hyperventilating but he continued to run. 

He didn’t take advantage of the phone in his pocket. He didn’t call Dan because they had just departed. He simply ran and ran away from his problems and away from the comfort. He ran until he managed to collapse onto the cobblestone, tripping over his own feet, scraping his elbows and palms, and tearing the fabric of his gown.   
The gown that signified yet another one of his problems, the one that symbolizes freedom. So it slid over his head in a frustrated manner, and it fell beside him once he got up, ignoring the burning sensation he felt from the heat spreading where his damaged skin had ripped. 

It was fear that fueled him. It was the fear that allowed him to keep walking in a direction he wasn’t sure of until the sunset had threatened to drip beyond the horizon, firstly cascading a prim bombardment of colours that were flung over the sky with terrible alacrity. The receding blue and oranges battled the blackness pushing it away with arms. The sun, omniscient of what would happen next, left floating in the sky until it had come down like a deflating balloon, sudden darkness as receding colours routed. 

He was far from home, or at least that’s what he hoped.   
But what exactly was home?  
Was it the people who disregarded him?  
Or the one, single good of the person that didn’t?   
Though he still ran from both until he found himself in a car of some woman who was a mere stranger with a desire that he told himself he had to fulfil. And it was that same reason that shot him out into the middle of the street just nights before. 

And the same reason that led him into an unfamiliar bed of an unfamiliar room with an unfamiliar person, unknown hands grazing over different bare bodies with clothes of different scents scattered on the floor. The two strangers had an almost portrayal of Meursault’s emotions towards Marie Cardona in the French novel, “L'Etranger”, no feelings whatsoever, sex without love. 

Though unlike the last time, there was a benefit. It wasn’t something to pay bills, or to pay rent, but it was fifty pounds, and that seemed “good” enough.   
It was “good”, because good was the only person who cared, not whatever Phil brought himself into to. Because good wasn’t and shouldn’t be selling yourself instead of seeking help. Good wasn’t having red marks on his neck given to him by bright red lips that stained his skin with lipstick as well. 

And it certainly wasn’t good at all when his legs seemed to stop functioning when his eyes laid on Dan who was across from him, seated on the stairs with his head resting against the railing, and his heart seemed to drop to his stomach, a feeling of disgust towards himself and his own body as he stared at the boy who he was bound to meet again, but it was too soon, and the guilt was way too fresh.   
He begged himself to go, to turn in the other direction, and his mind screamed at his body to do something, but just to his “luck”, it didn’t and he remained glued to the carpet beneath his shoes. 

Dan lifted his head as he recognized the figure in front of him, furrowing his brows in confusion. It was Phil who stood there in the dim lit hallways, his black quiff a total mess, wisps of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and his eyes glistened with shock. The white shirt he wore was wrinkled and carelessly tugged into his black skinny jeans, he looked lost and totally out of place. 

“Phil?“ Dan asked cautiously, the confusion of why the black haired boy was here and why he just had left a strangers apartment becoming more and more visible on his face. Only a few hours had passed since they’d said goodbye in front of Phil’s house and now, after the sun had set, they looked at each other again. 

Minutes after Dan had decided to go home just to sit in the cold hallways of the building instead of walking through the even colder streets, listening to music until his battery died. He didn’t even dare to be on the same floor as his own flat as he feared his mother was just waiting to tear open the door and tear open his skin.

So he just sat there on the stairs and pondered the question Phil had asked when they’d walked home from school, escaping the ceremony of their own graduation. Wrestling with the word future until he had enough of his pathetic thoughts that were torn between trying and giving up, just to let his head defeatedly sink against the railing. 

And now there was Phil, once again, but without tears streaming down either of the two faces, without alcohol in their blood or blood dripping down onto the floor. Dan didn’t even try to make sense out of it, they always found their way to each other. What concerned him more was the expression on Phil’s face that slowly faded into sheer panic as his hand clutched his other arm. 

“Are you okay?“ Dan pushed himself up from the stairs, but didn’t come closer to the trembling figure, waiting for him to run into his arms. 

But Phil stood still, his chest rising and falling visibly and Dan just wanted to reach out and touch him, offer comfort. And the urge strengthened as he found the black haired boy’s bare arms and the scars that were shattered across his pale skin, pink and white, fresh and old. And he immediately took his eyes off the massacre that he was so scarily familiar with, to look back into the pretty blue. 

Dan wasn’t ignoring the fine lines that he so dearly wanted to be scratches of a cat and not the result of sorrow and pain that desired teared open skin and thick blood, it just wasn’t the time to to trail his fingers across Phil’s skin and question the cause of such despair. 

He almost forgot that he had taken off his gown as well and stood there with the same bare arms and the same healed and recent wounds in the vague light. That they were just as visible as Phil’s and he didn’t even try hard to hide them by crossing his arms, they were all over his skin. Maybe it was just hurt for hurt again, even if it was too private and too painful to share. 

Everything that fucked Dan up so painfully, that he hated to dearly and was so utterly ashamed of, seemed almost normal with Phil. Alcohol wasn’t immediately substance abuse and scars weren’t pure misery. Bruises weren’t immediately abuse and tears weren’t outright weaknesses. They surely caused concern and the urge to save the other from the pain they had to endure, but they didn’t make them want to run, to hide and lie. The comfort was odd and unfamiliar, but equally craved.

Phil’s teeth gritted against each other and his stomach knotted together tightly as Dan’s voice echoed through his mind, and he was almost light-headed to the sound of his words, like he could faint any second as his eyelids felt heavy from how emotionally and physically exhausted he was, but he desperately wished it was all just a dream, that Dan wasn’t in front of him and he wouldn’t have to explain himself. That he could just leave, because going home wasn’t an option at all, and there would be no one to look at him the way Dan was.   
What was he meant to say?  
The truth?  
Was he meant to say the truth and ruin the one good thing he had in the life not even worth living?  
No, of course not.   
So he would lie and attempt to move on, no matter how obvious it was that he wasn’t being honest.   
Because no matter how many times Dan had seen Phil cry, or had held him in his arms, Phil was sure Dan would never speak to him again if he found out why there was such a panic in him. 

“Y-Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m fine.” He stammered the words of his lie, a faux smile appearing on his face but his eyes and how his eyebrows twitched ever so slightly into a frown showed the complete opposite of relaxation. He didn’t know what to do, which wasn’t new, but that was one of the few times where he was completely clueless. “Are you?” He asked, trying to switch the subject of conversation when his eyes scanned over Dan, noticing lines on his flesh that were in a lighter color, some fading, others bright red, and others forming scabs that would eventually turn shiny and pale when peeled off until he met Dan’s eyes that were filled with concern.   
And the fact that Dan had grown worry made Phil feel worse, because he wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth Dan’s feelings at all. 

He couldn’t see how horrible he looked either, but he knew he was nothing but disgusting, and it was most likely that Dan was repulsed by Phil as much as Phil was by himself. With every drip of sweat, the shame only increased, and he hated himself more and more every second. And he knew that the way his fingers either tugged at the fabric on his chest or rubbed together nervously at his side while at the same time shaking uncontrollably looked absolutely pathetic that he could even hear the scoffs of his classmates that he could no longer call them as that, the scoffs that only mocked him rather than tried to help him. 

He wished he could just sprint away from Dan like how he did hours earlier, to avoid what he didn’t want to deal with. But he couldn’t, because Dan had already seen him and there was nothing he could do about it. Though in contempt of what he had been through, he couldn’t help but question between himself why Dan was on the stairs in the first place and not in his own home, and he hoped that nothing too serious had happened, that Dan wasn’t thrown out of his home the way Phil was about to be if he ever tried to go back.   
So through the shock that failed to leave him, he just stared at the boy in front of him, using all his willpower to not break down. 

Dan didn’t believe the words that had escaped Phil’s lips, how could he when he was so obviously in distress. He wasn’t fine, probably not even near to okay and they both knew, so Dan didn’t even try to pressure him into telling the truth. The discomfort was just as visible as the panic in his eyes and Dan wished he could just wrap his arms around him, but maybe that was the exact moment where he shouldn’t do that. 

Because the feeling that he might’ve caused Phil’s panic didn’t let Dan go and he didn’t want to make it even worse. Even if he urged the boy’s warmth himself to soothe the suffering of his own thoughts and the fear of what was waiting for him in the morning and the coming days. But Dan didn’t matter in those minutes, because he was always broken, he was always hurt and he always craved comfort as his life was seemed to fall apart more with every passing second. 

“I’m okay“ he began instead, his fingers brushing over the bumpy scars on his upper arm. Even though he just thought about how they both didn’t feel the need to tell the other lies, they also didn’t want to overshare. There were just too many fucked up things going on in their lives and it was just too early to reveal all of that. To test the bond between them. 

“I just locked myself out and my mum’s not home“ he continued, even though his mum was probably right now in the living room emptying bottle after bottle, waiting for him enter the flat. To yell out her disappointment, to leave him empty in the doorway as her hand slammed hard across his face. 

But Phil didn’t need to know that and Dan didn’t need to make him unnecessarily worried, when the black haired boy was concerning himself. Something was so odd about the situation that Dan didn’t even know what to do, whether he should ask why Phil had just left the apartment in front of them, even though he knew he wouldn’t get the truth and the truth didn’t matter anyways. It didn’t matter because the why wouldn’t help Phil, the why wouldn’t stop him from shaking and it wouldn’t soothe the thunderstorm that raged above the ocean of his. 

And the more Dan stared at the boy in front of him, the more he could see how wasted he was. The sweat that made his shirt stick to his chest and the scars that were just a hint of how broken he was inside and a deep red mark on his neck that Dan couldn’t connect to anything that made sense. It was almost unbearable to look at Phil as he stood there so exposed and vulnerable, even if they’d already seen the other at rock bottom. 

“Can I walk you home?“ Dan bit on his lips as the question broke the brief silence between them. He didn’t want Phil to be on his own when cars drove so unwarily at night. The chance was too high that the black haired boy was just as careless and Dan couldn’t risk that. What if he would end up on the street once again, the same street he had sat on almost four days ago. What if Dan wouldn’t be in reach to drag him away, back onto the pavement. What if this wasn’t a moment of hesitation, of debating whether staying with Phil would cause them to grow more attached to each other, what if this was a moment of just staying with him and not letting his fear stand above the boys safety. 

Phil lifted his head and looked at Dan after staring at his shoes for a couple minutes, thinking about so much as well as nothing. He tugged at the end of his shirt, the fabric stretching perhaps more than it should below his collar to the point where it had loosened when he let go. “N-No.” He blurted out, his eyebrows drawn together as the faux smile immediately disintegrated into an anxious expression. “I-I don’t want to go home.” He added, realizing how fast he said “no” might’ve implied he didn’t want to stay with Dan, which wasn’t the case. “They’ll kill me..I don’t want to go..” The sentence came out in a whisper, the feeling of fear increasing with every word. 

His eyes moved around the room, almost restlessly darting the surroundings until he caught his reflection staring back at him, and that was when he felt nauseated with his appearance and his actions. Too sickened to the point where the regurgitation had slithered its way into his mouth that he had to place his hand over his lips and swallow the disgustingly sour taste back down his throat. He hated the way his hair had been messed up after making a forced effort to make it look presentable, and he hated how his shirt had ridden up on his side, exposing the white waistline of his boxers, and how his cheeks were flushed in a bright red colour, a thin layer of sweat coating the skin. He hated the territorial mark on his neck, one of a red shade that only had one meaning. A meaning he was too ashamed of himself to admit. He was ashamed of the money in his pocket too, how he did such a horrendous thing to obtain it.   
He hated that he was way too exposed in those moments, that Dan could see every single little feeling he experienced and other than that he felt bad that Dan had to even see that in the first place. 

Dan had his own issues, and Phil was worrying him with more issues that weren’t even Dan’s to begin with. He didn’t mean to. He didn’t plan to meet up with Dan after he left the apartment, not at all, and yet he did. 

And if there was some way he could just make Dan forget, or a way to turn back time to the point when he breathed heavily on the streets to call him, he’d take it. Because anything was better than how he felt now. Anything was better than looking at himself and thinking God, what’ve I done with my life while fighting back threatening tears that stung his eyes and caused the tip of his nose to redden, matching the tint of his cheeks. 

Anything was better than this, to crave the arms of another but afraid to pain him at the touch, so he sat in the cold, absent of the warmth. Anything was better than the pitying looks of the brown eyes that looked longingly at him, attempting to solve a puzzle with pieces scattered underneath carpets and furniture that would never be moved, lost and unlikely to be found. 

And as Dan had predicted, the pain and fear in Phil’s voice wrenched his heart. The sudden honesty startled him at first, but then just enhanced the urge to comfort the boy who clearly didn’t want to go home. And it wrenched his heart to see the way he looked at his own reflection, to see the agony crawl over his face and the disgust flicker in his eyes and Dan just wanted to close the distance between them. He wanted to wrap his arms around Phil and let him break down in his arms, break down himself. They both felt it cracking beneath their ribcage, tearing their skin open and screaming at the top of their lungs. Suppressed and growing was the pain, slowly suffocating them as they held back the tears that dwelled in their eyes at every time. 

Dan felt his heart beating, but without any purpose. He wanted to rip it out of his chest, because all it did was keep him alive, but he didn’t even feel alive. And he knew Phil felt the same, the same hunger for a little good, the same craving for comfort and love. They shared the pain they so dearly tried to keep hidden and Dan just needed to look at Phil to feel the despair and the urge to make it go away again. But what was left behind the hurt, the sadness and the anger. 

Dan was starving for a reason to live, for a voice to tell him that he was okay, that it wasn’t too late and that his eternal breaking would stop, that all of this would stop and that they both would be okay in the end. But something in his mind tried to convince him otherwise, that it all would go wrong and maybe broken and broken didn’t go well together, maybe it only created a mess of shards. Maybe their shared pain wasn’t shared but doubled.   
Because as he looked at the black haired boy, it wrenched his heart.

“Where do you want to go?” He asked, his voice stifled by the lump in his throat and the desire to say something else. Something that would feel like an embrace, something comforting enough to make Phil’s visible suffering fade into the darkness of the night. 

But he just dug his fingers deeper into his skin, not deep enough to draw blood, but to suppress the fear that began to grow in his chest, bracing himself to follow Phil wherever he wanted to go, wherever it hurt a little less. Even if it fueled the panic that they could grow too attached to each other, even if it felt like a trap he wouldn’t be able to escape, even if leaving began to feel more and more impossible. It was worth the comfort he could give Phil, the little good. 

“I want to-“ The sentence was cut off by sharp teeth biting on a swollen tongue, the words gagging on the inside of his mouth, pushing against his lips to be said. But Phil forced his mind to rearrange the words, and instead said, “Could I stay here?” Because asking that seemed less pathetic than admitting he wanted to stay with Dan, it seemed less pathetic than saying ‘I want to stay with you’ or ‘Could I stay with you?’. His eyebrows were drawn together as the question left his mouth, and his eyes were desperately pleading for him to say yes, because going back home was like lighting himself on fire and there would be no one to douse the flames. And even if his expression made him seem unbelievably commiserable, he was determined on making his words slightly less than that if not fully. 

But there was also the huge and likely chance that Dan would just reject him. That he would easily say no because he didn’t want to be near Phil in his current state, that current state being externally and internally damaged to the point where it seemed beyond repair. Maybe Dan would say no because he didn’t need anymore weight on his shoulders because he had to take care of himself and focus on himself and not on Phil. 

And thoughts like that, thoughts that kept on increasing and elaborating into more negativity rather than positivity, thoughts that flourished into ideas that Dan had begun to hate him because, even if it was mostly unintentional, Phil would always find his way to him and it would become so exhausting to have to care for another life. And thoughts that as soon as Dan would open his mouth to respond, it would come out as a “Leave me alone”, because now they graduated and they didn’t need to see each other anymore so why would he let him stay? It wasn’t like they’d see each other at school the next day. 

There was a choice, so now no answer had to be forced. That’s what scared Phil the most, and having control over things was equally terrifying if not more.  
His entire existence could be pictured as a single car: You’d have the passenger seat and the driver’s. And it should’ve been Phil steering the wheel his whole life, him deciding where to go and what to do.   
But it was never him in the driver’s seat. Hell, he was never in the car to begin with. It was always those same two people crammed into the seat where he was supposed to be, controlling what he did and where he went.   
He never got the chance to have control. He never had a choice.   
And now he did, and it was so unfamiliar.   
They both had a choice, and it was equally new to each of them. But now they had to figure out how to use the free will wisely, because one wrong turn of the steering wheel and they could swerve themselves fifty feet off a cliff, plummaging themselves to a more than painful death. 

Though the fact that Phil had to meet Dan once again in this current situation, finding him on the stairs after leaving a stranger’s apartment in heavy breaths proved that he would never be able to have control, or make the right decision, and that perhaps him staring at Dan was the fall off the cliff, and the “No” that he waited for would be his death. 

Thoughts like that made Phil regret even asking in the first place, because now he had to sit in silence, heart pounding against his chest and his chest shaking with every trembling breath. And it was those same thoughts that made his leg move backwards, ready to begin walking in the other direction but not knowing where to go at all. 

But Dan’s lips could never allow a “no” to escape them and his eyes could never witness the dying of Phil’s quiet wishes again. He did when he left him alone in the house with a parent that couldn’t be described as more than a cause of pain and despair, Dan had listened to the yells that weren’t even stifled by the facade that separated the two boys and he could never let that happen again. But allowing Phil to stay with him made his blood feel like cement in his veins and his breath shallow, his lungs unable to move against the suddenly so heavy ribs. He wanted to say of course, because that was the only answer that seemed to be fitting in the situation, but his mouth was dry and his lips were caught beneath his teeth. Grinding over the ripped skin until his tongue began to taste the bitter and metallic that seemed to be the only thing that was able to escape his lips. 

The silence was draining and the hesitation seemed to be more destructive than a “no” would even be, because it only meant that Dan had to decide, that the answer wasn’t obvious, even if it was. Of course Phil could stay, even if that meant hours of them being together, hours of looking at Phil, hours of questioning everything and hours of feeling trapped in something good. Trapped in comfort and trapped in hesitation, thoughts he shouldn’t think and thoughts that were so loud and hard to suppress that eventually a “no” seemed to be the better option. 

But Dan couldn’t say no and he couldn’t say yes, his body unable to move but still ready to run. It was wrong, so wrong to regret asking in first place. But his mind was so toxic and his fear so real, his fear of being close enough to someone to say “yes” without a doubt, close enough to feel their warmth and their heartbeat, their pain and their despair. He desired the comfort Phil could give him, he urged his touch even but god, he wished he wouldn’t. He wished it was easy to say leave Phil and easy to just ignore his suffering, because he already dealt with so much himself. He wished he didn’t care where Phil would spend the night and how his parents would hurt him when he would enter the seemingly so normal house, but he did. He cared and he wanted Phil to stay and to leave and to run away, because Dan would hurt him. Escape before his self destruction would become a destruction of everything close enough, before his fast draining time would come to an end and he would just explode. But Dan wasn’t a ticking bomb, he was just broken, but being broken meant being in shards and shards would pierce through the skin of those who dared to touch them.

And it might’ve been even better for Phil if Dan didn’t need him to stay as much as the black haired boy didn’t want to leave, but before the hesitation got too much to endure and before one of them could say goodbye, Dan nodded. His head moved slowly up and down, as his eyes casted to the floor and his teeth let go of his bleeding lips. It would be okay and it would be bearable. It was just a night in the staircase of the building he lived in, a night he would’ve spent alone in the darkness of the halls with the cold air from outside encasing him until he dared to lay his hand on the doorknob of his apartment. Until he could be sure that his mum had passed out due to the alcohol in her blood and it would be safe to rush through the small flat into his room, which he would lock for as long as he could go without any food. 

But instead he’d committed to Phil staying with him and he would stay for the whole night, maybe exactly where he stood, across the hall, in front of the strangers home he’d left just minutes ago or right next to Dan. Close enough for their sides to touch, their arms to brush and Phil to heat Dan’s cold skin. He knew that there could even be a head on the others shoulder, hair tickling one’s neck and cheek as comfort would only draw them closer. And it was hard to believe that that could be a good thing, when everything Dan had ever experienced was bad. When a touch meant pain and bruises, when trust meant believing lies, when attachment meant falling together and love meant slowly growing hate. Loathing that would develop once every flaw was visible, once the details about his fucked up life became clear and the desire to leave would replace the urge to stay. Everyone would leave eventually. But maybe it was good that Phil would stay for the night, even if it was just for once and not forever. 

So Dan took a step backwards so that his heel met the stairs behind him before he sat down. He’d rather sit on the floor of a locked room or lay in a bed that wasn’t soaked in his tears and memories. But his body was unable to walk anywhere, as he feared that he would run. He’d slept in the staircase many times before, the railing hard against his head, resulting in a headache and a stiff neck in the morning, the floor cold and the noises keeping him awake until his eyelids were too heavy. He didn’t mind staying here, it was better than facing his mother, but he wished Phil didn’t have to sit in the cold darkness as well. To have a restless sleep in an unfamiliar building just to escape his own hell. Dan wished his mother wasn’t something he had to avoid and fear, so that he could just reach into his pocket for his keys and let Phil sleep on the couch or his bed. But Dan couldn’t risk a bottle to shatter or a heap of insults to rain down on him, in the boy’s presence. 

Just as risky was the tilting of his head, that offered Phil to sit down next to him on the stairs, maybe on the other side, head resting on the opposite railing or close enough for them to touch. The night was already so painful and Dan was already so close to breaking down just as much as Phil was, that spending hours of looking at something good could dry the tears that dwelled in their eyes at any time. And maybe Dan just urged the touch so desperately that he ignored his mind yelling at him how wrong it was, how attachment would drag Phil into his pool of pain and darkness and how the shards of his broken heart would pierce so easily the black haired boy’s already marked skin. Maybe it was selfish of Phil to ask him if he could stay or selfish of Dan to say yes and maybe it wasn’t selfish at all when both desired the comfort that it brought and endured the pain that came within. It was always despair that drew them together and drew them further apart. 

It seemed as if Phil was holding his breath, because as soon as Dan agreed to him staying, his lungs exhaled in relief before they got the chance to collapse, allowing him to pass out onto the hard floor beneath him.   
So he quietly made his way towards Dan and seated himself beside him, feeling his insecurities grow because he felt so embarrassed being so close to him while looking like such a wreck from his appearance to the very faint smell of sweat and somehow sadness. 

He didn’t look at him, didn’t dare to meet his eyes because Dan would be able to see the dark, hollow circles underneath the blue from a closer view. And if he met Dan’s eyes, he would be able to see the brown trail down to the red on his neck only to be able to make faster conclusions on what it actually symbolized, so Phil looked straight ahead as a mumbled “Thank you” escaped his lips. His hands rested on his lap, fingers weaving in and out of each other anxiously, and a yawn came out of him, muffled by the hand that covered his mouth. 

His eyelids lazily opened and closed as he thought, not knowing where to begin with or if anything should even be said because for some reason it felt as if conversation was necessary to fill in the aching silence. 

Their legs brushed together in that same familiarity every time they touched, and Phil lifted his head to look at Dan because he knew he couldn’t last more than a couple seconds without looking at him if he had the opportunity to do so. It was weird, how much he didn’t want to look at him and how much he desired to. His image and touch were a craving that Phil fancied ever since he got acquainted to them. Their eyes locked, and it caused the thumping beneath Phil’s ribcage to harden against his bones, and the question of if he wanted to turn away battled in his mind. A back and forth answer of ‘yes’ and ‘no’ threw itself around his head, and it caused a headache to think about. 

There was the faint sound of a television in a nearby apartment, and the creaking of wooden floors could be heard from all different angles. It hurt, how relaxed people could be in their own homes and Phil envied that. He envied how they could enter through their doors without having to be dragged by their arms, and how they could go into their rooms without having to lock the door behind them, or even how they sat on their bed without having to bury their face in the pillow only to then soak it in tears. 

He tried to hope that one day he’d be able to do the same, but he scolded himself for even thinking that because now it would never come true. 

Now he sat on the stairs layered with a thick burgundy coloured carpet with Dan looking directly at him, and he didn’t bother trying to guess what he thought of Phil because that would exhaust him. Instead, he broke the eye contact and turned his head to the front before he rested his head on Dan’s shoulder, letting out a tired sigh. There was no hesitation in the action, and maybe that was good, but perhaps it could be bad as well. But he tried to convince himself that it was okay. That it was fine and nothing was wrong with seeking comfort. Because if they considered each other friends, then that’s what they were supposed to be doing: Giving each other whatever made them feel better no matter what. And if that meant a silent head on a comfortable shoulder, then that should be okay, right? 

It was late, the sun had set and the sky had been painted with darkness, and the moonlight shone ever so briefly through the window at the end of the corridor. A singular light bulb flickered above them until it had gone out, drowning such a small area of the hallway with a Cimmerian shade. His fingers picked at the part of the carpet that had begun to peel off, feeling the scratchy fabric against his skin. Everything was just so tired, so drained and yearning to be refueled just to be able to go by another day, and the two were far from that because they were exhausted. 

And through the debilitation, Phil lethargically opened his mouth and sluggishly murmured, “I’m sorry I’m such a mess”, his eyes closed as he spoke because he had given up on keeping them open but continued to breathe in the soothing scent radiating off of Dan since it was much better than breathing in his own.   
And the words that came out weren’t thought out either, but he knew he had to apologize, because no one was ever meant to see Phil in such a way, and yet he was still leaning on Dan in that same state of himself that he despised. 

The head on Dan’s shoulder had caused his body to stiffen up, not because it was uncomfortable, but because it wasn’t. It felt familiar and it felt warm and it made his muscles tense, because with every movement he would just touch the boy next to him even more. He was torn between urging Phil to sit on the opposite side and the desire to pull him even closer. He felt like he was suffocating, because he didn’t dare to breath in Phil’s scent, the vague ocean breeze that he feared would make him want to leave. That the more he wanted to stay like this forever, the more he had to escape. 

He didn’t know what was right or wrong, everything was painful anyways, everything drew blood and traits of tears. Nothing would shush the darkness in his head, he couldn’t please it, not as long as he was breathing.

But the words that were still so quiet in the empty halls and so painful to hear, wrenched Dan’s heart. The void his gaze had drowned in vanished and left was the darkness they both sat in, the moonlight from outside than shone through the window and Phil next to him. The panic in his chest turned into an unfamiliar longing, yearning for something Dan would be afraid of if he wasn’t so exhausted and if it wasn’t for Phil. His lips parted and a silent breath escaped them. He faltered for a second, his eyebrows drawn together as the words circled in his mind. 

Phil didn’t have to apologize, not for anything he did. Even if it hurt Dan, if some words pierced through his chest, deflating his lungs. Even if some touches increased the never ending panic and the fear of something that wasn’t in his control. Even if Phil made him want to stay, when all he desired was to leave. He would never have to apologize. Not for being a mess, when only the word beautiful crossed Dan’s mind. Beautiful, on the tip of his tongue but unspoken. But what could he lose, what could he lose thinking that word, saying it out loud, when he’d already lost everything. Everything was pointless, so how could thoughts be wrong, how could words fuel panic in a heart that was already broken. 

He was too tired to fight against the voice telling him to push Phil away, to rush downstairs into the night and lie down on the street where the cars could end what had never really begun. He was too exhausted and too broken to hesitate.

And god, he desired the comfort, desired what wasn’t enough to soothe the pain or wash off the blood, what wasn’t enough to make the scars fade or to glue the shards of his heart back together. He desired something selfish, something that could bring a little bit of good into the freezing cold halls of the building he’d spent so many nights in, running away from what was awaiting in the morning, from alcohol and alcoholics. From himself and his reflection. Fearing that all those insults, weren’t just insults but the truth. Fearing his thoughts and his words and his actions, because they were all so out of control. All just lead by the darkness in his head that killed him from the inside out. He didn’t want to think anymore. 

And he didn’t think when he turned his head and pressed his lips lightly into the black, ruffled hair before resting his cheek against it. Taking in the bittersweet scent and taking in the warmth that radiated from the boy next to him. Craving more of the longing feeling that stretched throughout his whole body as he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the thoughts that dripped cold onto his skin like rain. 

Urging tears to form in his eyes, urging pain to rock his body and regret to overwhelm his drained mind. To make him run from the only good thing in his life just so that he would find himself lost and alone in the middle of a street with nothing holding him back. 

Because what he‘d done was more than a friendly gesture, more than a hug of comfort or a simple word to soothe the pain. He’d kissed the boy’s hair and he tried to ignore the shards piercing through his chest, deflating his lungs, which just had started to move against his ribcage again. He tried to ignore sudden heat on his skin, his neck and cheeks, because all he was supposed to feel was regret. He should’ve felt the panic flourish where the comfort bloomed, replacing the feeling of belonging with the urge to rewind the past seconds. Erase what was supposed to hurt and not crave for more. More of his hair against his lips because it felt so right. It felt as if his lips just found a purpose. But was it wrong to give in into the bit of good he found, to give in into what made him want to flee and stay and run and hide and repeat what he’d done. Did he deserve the good tangled with pain and the boy to his side. Or did he deserve to drown the longing in his chest with the finality of the moment, never looking back and fleeing as soon as the sun would flood the halls. 

“Don’t apologize for something you didn’t cause” Dan breathed, the soft wisps of hair brushing against his cheek and neck. His fingers clutched the seam of his black shirt that barely kept him warm, because Phil’s hand just wasn’t close enough to hold and his thoughts were already too loud to drown. Questioning why he did what he did, instead of just accepting the apology and falling asleep against the railing to his left. And the answer was so given so easily, even if he didn’t understand it himself; Dan would do anything to ease Phil’s pain. 

Phil’s cheeks were suddenly kissed pink like a spring rose, the blooming colour awkward against his slightly freckled skin, and the blush seared through his skin that for a minute he thought his face was on fire. Even his ears had matched the shade of his cheeks, visible for everyone to see. There was the desire to gently turn away and hide what wasn’t meant to happen, but Dan’s head rested on his, and that only increased the shyness to extend down his arms, marking his shoulders scarlet that shone behind the white of his shirt until his stomach was invaded with coyness, twisting and turning every edge of it to the point where he felt sick. 

And through the wanting to fight back, to disagree with Dan and to contradict every word that was said, he whispered, “Okay” because his body and mind felt too loose to function, too heated up to be able to work, and it was as if he was going into overdrive. 

And it was all because of a simple gesture, a most likely platonic gesture because what more could it be? What more could it be when it was Phil in the picture?

It was such a basic thing, but how could something so basic halt his thoughts and actions? Stopping him from saying that he did cause it, that the reason why he looked so horrible was his own doing because he was the one who ran and he was the one who didn’t call and he was the one who got in a stranger’s car. 

It was such a basic thing that Phil wanted it to happen again because even if he hated how his skin transitioned into a crimson shade, even if he hated how he lost control over his body, it still gave him such an odd sensation of comfort. He didn’t feel hated at the moment when Dan’s lips grazed against the strands of hair whenever he spoke, and for just a second, only a second if not less, he didn’t seem to hate himself for what he did. 

But it all came back too quickly, the self-loathing that seemed to rush in and shove through all the other thoughts. It sat on a throne, ready to command and take control over Phil. It leaned itself beside Phil, close to the ear that wasn’t pressed against Dan’s shoulder, and it whispered what was concealed for a moment: That Dan had kissed his hair, and that hair was invaded by the slender fingers of a stranger several minutes before. So his body battled between what to feel, debated on whether to repeat the way he felt seconds ago or minutes ago, and he internally cried for help, he wanted to tell Dan and ask him what to do, but he could only remain silent. 

He found himself somehow going closer to Dan, even though there was barely any distance to begin with, snuggling into the crook of his neck as a soft sigh escaped his lips and sleep threatened his tired eyes. And instead of facing what was in front of him, his knees averted their direction so that they pointed towards Dan, pressing up against the part slightly lower than Dan’s knee. 

He had managed to overthrow the throne because the battle in his head was won and his body decided on feeling what he did seconds ago, though he was sure that the next morning the hatred would return, stronger than the day that had passed. 

But live in the moment, or at least “live” in it, that’s what he tried convincing himself because now he was given the chance of control. 

And living in the moment meant falling asleep with no thoughts in his head besides those of Dan, forgetting the parents who he was afraid of facing, and forgetting how uncomfortable his back felt against the hard stairs behind him. Forgetting every thought only temporarily as long as the boy sat beside him, as long as the boy was pressed against him, and as long as he could feel the side of the boy’s neck grazing against his own forehead. 

As long as they shared heat and thoughts that would cut open their tongues every time they tried to speak, it seemed okay.   
It seemed so unsafe, but nothing but safe.   
And that was what okay had begun to mean. 

They were no longer unfamiliar to each other, the feeling of their bodies together wasn’t something unusual anymore, and that was so incredibly wrong but also so incredibly right. 

They were no longer considered strangers like the first time Phil’s back was pressed up against Dan’s chest, so maybe, just maybe that was okay and only okay, no more, no less.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! We're vv sorry for the late upload, but here we are with chapter 8! We really like this one, and we hope you will too. (Love that we're writing November in November by the way)

Memories of the night before flashed in his mind, and he dared to tilt his head slightly forward to confirm them. His eyes fell on the dark bags below Phil’s eyes, trailing down his pale skin towards the patch on his neck that was painted in red. Relations and causations filled his head, but he couldn’t find one that made proper sense. Because what could Phil even have done to have received such a mark? The question remained unanswered as he leaned himself back and let out a soft sigh, looking up at the ceiling as if it would provide him with the answers he desired.

There were too many questions in his head by now, some had been on his mind for years, some had just occurred. A few could be connected to the boy next to him, enough to make Dan want to rewind whatever had posed these questions. Most of them had appeared when nothing made sense. What and how and usually why did he had to be still here. 

The white but subtly stained ceiling faded more and more away, revealing a blurry void Dan could’ve lost himself in for hours. Forgetting that it was already bright outside, that his mum would eventually stand up from the filthy grey couch and trudge to the kiosk down the street, to restock what got emptied overnight and remember that she still hadn’t yelled at her son.

Forgetting that there was someone by his side, someone who had been there the whole night, not even lifting his head. Forgetting a kiss that lingered bittersweet in his memory, declared as something accidental, something not thought through when the exhaustion of the day had played with his brain. It wasn’t a desperate attempt to get plain answers to complex questions, it was just pure ignorance.

Avoidance of the obvious and avoidance of what he would have to dig deep for. There were just too many questions for now, for a little void in a ceiling and a fragile brown haired boy, who would break just by touching the first of thousand layers.

And the brief moment of apathy was easily ended with the click of a door. Dan’s eyes darted to a woman, standing right in front of him as she turned around and halted in her movement. Brown, ruffled hair and a hand on a doorknob. Arms covered in the beige, long sleeves of a trench coat, hiding half of a black jeans that ended right above a pair of same coloured heels. Her face was young but her furrowed brows made some deep lines appear on her forehead as she eyed both of the boys sitting on the stairs. 

The sudden urge to back away from Phil struck Dan’s mind, getting his head off his shoulder, getting the feeling of his hair off his lips and every mortifying thought out of his head. The woman’s eyes seemed to know, seemed to know just as much as Dan did and more. And he wanted to explain himself, wanted to explain why there was little to no space between the two bodies, why Phil’s warmth felt comforting and why he wished he could feel it now more than ever. Now that it felt wrong and now that it felt exposed. Exposed to a stranger’s gaze and all their assumptions. 

And he wanted to protect it the little good that seemed to get dragged away so suddenly, just as much as he wanted to drown it. Drown it to defend his plain answers and the complex questions that reflected in the cold blue of the woman’s eyes. 

But it was just a fragment of a moment, a second of desiring that Phil had slept on the other side of the stairs, head resting against a railing. A second of panic that had caught Dan so off guard that he didn’t even question the woman’s look.

How her gaze wandered over Phil’s unaware body, how it lingered on the red mark that stained his pale skin. How she’d come out of the same flat, Phil had left the evening before. And how she shook her head a little as she let go of the knob and walked down the stairs with her steps muffled by the deep red carpeted floor. 

And it seemed almost on demand when Phil had woken up from the doubtfully comfortable sleep, though his eyes remained closed, not wanting to face the world for another decade even. But today, in the luminous and fresh morning, it was different. Instead of waking up in his bed, in the mattress that had lost all sense of security over the years, he found that his head rested on that of a hard figure, one that’s chest rose and fell with every breath. And he listened to every inhale as well as exhale, appreciating the soft sigh that escaped Dan’s lips every time a breath would part from him. 

So he decided that he would face reality today if it meant he’d spend his morning with the boy beside him, and to that his eyelids fluttered open, oculars almost immediately blinded by the golden flares that illuminated his tired eyes. Though the feeling of regret was ever so quick in catching up to him, wrapping itself around Phil, preventing him to breathe from an atmosphere free of shame. 

His heart beat fast, but steady. Hard, but softly. Palpitations ranging from different degrees as two thoughts wrestled in his mind. What was right and what was wrong was a question thats answers were already predetermined in moral values of society, but those same answers were what Phil couldn’t seem to digest.

He lifted his head up from Dan’s shoulder, covering his mouth with his hand as he let out a yawn, eyes still heavy even though they’d slept for hours. Debate and hesitation was next, and he asked himself if he would look at him, to face what Dan looked like in the early morning and for Dan to see Phil. He turned to look at him, instantly locking gazes with him as if Dan had somehow heard his thoughts. 

And God, he looked nothing but breathtaking.

Such a daring word to describe a young adult, a daring word to describe the boy whose body leaned against his.

A daring word to describe Dan, because he was almost sure that it wasn’t what he was supposed to think. 

Classically beautiful.

The way his liquid brown eyes held such an intelligence in them and serenity that it was almost impossible for Phil to not be kept prisoner by them. How his cheekbones weren’t especially high, and his nose near to perfect, straight as he faced Phil. Though there was an undeniable symmetry to his face, and perhaps that’s what kept Phil so captivated. And his skin glowed beneath the radiance of the sun, revealing several freckles that scattered his unblemished cheeks.

He had an understated beauty, and for all one knows it was because he was so disarmingly unaware of his prettiness.  

But as Phil gazed deeper into Dan’s eyes, he noticed the discomfort. He noticed how unsure they looked as they fell to the mark on his neck and then back up to meet the blue from the red, and even if it took less than a second, it was still slow enough for Phil to realize. He tilted his head, feeling the most exposed currently, and his eyebrows drew together in worry. He pleaded internally that nothing had happened, that Dan hadn’t figured anything out in the now glistening light of the day rather than the night. Ignoring the thoughts had become difficult because words had become too much. Desperate to shut himself up, he opened his mouth to speak up.

“Hey, are you alright?” He asked, an awkward chuckle leaving him after he spoke as the anxieties continued to take over his body.

Dan casted his eyes down, hoping that they wouldn’t give away his thoughts. “Yeah, yeah” He mumbled, his teeth grinding over his lower lip as he leaned further into the railing, away from the warmth and the comfort of the night. His arms were crossed, fingers tight around his upper arms, suddenly trying to cover up the scars that spoke even louder than his eyes.

Now, in the daylight, he felt exposed to a stranger, even if Phil wasn’t one. Something felt so unfamiliar in the familiarity of his presence, something that reminded him of how little he actually knew about the black haired boy. Just because Dan’s lips had grazed his hair, it didn’t mean that he was his. They still were somewhat strangers, somehow so deeply connected but also just former classmates. Dan couldn’t read his mind, he couldn’t ask him about personal things as they weren’t really friends yet and now he was left to assume.

And he didn’t want to assume anything as rumours had only made them to involuntary loners. He didn’t want to look at the rosy mark on Phil’s neck when words like _bruise_ or _hickey_ got thrown at him. _Love bite_. He couldn’t look away either because his eyes got drawn to the quite new addition. Wondering who had left it there, who had their lips not only in his hair but on his skin.

Dan tried to keep himself away from speculations, away from everything that wasn’t more or less than the truth. Because he didn’t want to be right, he didn’t want Phil to belong to someone. And he didn’t want to think about it any further as it would only destroy the little good they had left. The little bit of warmth that faded away with each inch of distance between them and the little bit of familiarity that they craved so dearly.

His eyes trailed up Phil’s scarred arms, over the white, wrinkled shirt and some untouched skin, up to his face and his blue eyes that revealed a bit of nervousness and specks of yellow in the golden morning light.

The silence as Dan thought made Phil’s blood as cold as the autumnal air that crept through the open window across from them. It was perhaps too quiet even, not only in the dimly lit hallway but beyond that same window. Bereft of any wind, the leaves outside hung limp until they fell to their own accord, there was no whispering noise or rustling. It was as if nature itself conspired to keep Phil in the dark, not daring to whisper any sort of reassurance he craved.

But finally, the silence was broken, and a breath left Phil’s mouth in relief when Dan spoke. 

“Did you sleep okay?” Dan asked, wishing he would’ve worn a long sleeved shirt under the once so neatly folded robe, that laid at the bottom of the stairs. “Sorry that I couldn’t offer you something more comfortable than a staircase” He chuckled like Phil had, eyes darting between the boy’s face and his own hands, that weren’t used to skin instead of fabric. Trying to hold onto something familiar, but nothing really was anymore.

Phil brought his eyes up to meet Dan’s although the brown kept moving back and forth, not immediately locking like they once had. An uneasy smile spread across Phil’s face as he nodded, suddenly feeling very queasy. “It’s alright. The staircase is more than fine.” He replied, the corners of his mouth still tugged upwards in a faux manner. It went quiet for a moment, and his eyebrows furrowed together. “I’m sorry if I bothered you by staying?” He continued, words nervous as they left his mouth.

His eyes then fell on the distance between them once he acknowledged the fact that their legs no longer touched, and the spot where Dan’s thigh leaned against his had been replaced with nothing but ice. The nausea proceeded to increase at that. It increased to the thought that Dan might’ve been disgusted by him. He was close to being sure of that, that Dan exclusively felt repugnance towards him because the only thing Phil was was a mess. He was a cluster of regret and bad decisions, and the mark on his neck showed that. And then he found his own knee leaning away from Dan’s direction, pressing up on his other leg as he moved away from Dan, eyes downcast in the disappointment of himself and hand trailing up as fingers curled around his neck to cover the mistake that he desperately wanted to pull off.

And to Phil, it hurt to know that they were able to grow distant to each other as equally fast as they grew closer.

“No.” Dan said, the railing against his back as he couldn’t draw more distance between him and the black haired boy. “No, I’m glad you stayed.” He continued, unsure of his words. Whether they were there to be polite or to be true. Because he didn’t know why Phil had stayed to be polite or to be true, for Dan or himself or just because there was nowhere else to go.

But Dan knew there was, there was a flat right in front of them, a flat Phil had left the evening before with a red stain on his neck that wasn’t bleeding, but trapped under his pale skin. And he didn’t think anything of it, didn’t assume because he wasn’t in the place to, wasn’t allowed to just because he claimed to know Phil when he really didn’t. He knew his scent but he didn’t know where it came from, he knew the colour of his eyes but he didn’t know what made them glaze with tears and he knew his touch but he didn’t fucking know why he did.

Because as much as Dan tried to make sense of it, he didn’t understand why Phil had stayed overnight, why he touched Dan, why he shared his pain and shared his tears and shared his warmth with someone as fucked up as Dan Howell. He would ask and he would assume, assume that it was just pity that they shared and nothing more. And maybe it was for the best and maybe Dan just couldn’t think this early in the morning without a bottle against his lips, when too many unanswered questions dug through his brain, throbbing in his head. But all he craved was a little bit of distance when he couldn’t get as close as he desired. 

“We’ve graduated yesterday” he scoffed in disbelieve, changing the topic as if it would change his thoughts. At the bottom of the stairs laid the robe he’d never imagined to wear and somehow it felt weird to be still considered a teenager, when he didn’t even go to school anymore, when he’d seen more alcohol than some adults and been closer to death than his grandma was days before she died. He was seventeen and he’d never thought he would make it this far, or this far down. And Phil was eighteen and considered an adult.   

“I don’t have to go to school on Monday, isn’t that weird?” He turned his head to lock his eyes with the boy next to him, his fingers still trying to cover up the scars that adorned his arms in the most tragic way, even though he knew Phil wouldn’t look at them anyways. And Dan didn’t even know why the most unimportant question had escaped his lips, when there were so many more urgent ones. A rhetorical question, because it was weird and it felt unfamiliar to lose the most insignificant purpose. But the purpose to say “here” when his name was called was more than not having to be there. Not having to say anything at all, not having to show up anymore as nobody needed him to. 

And Dan didn’t need Phil to say anything either, because a rhetorical question is only asked to make a point rather than to elicit an answer.

 _And Phil, I don’t have to exist anymore._  

“It is.” 

Though the thing with existence was that it was a funny thing, really. Not actually, joyfully funny however, it was more of the type of funny that would leave you with a sad chuckle, mouth tugging upwards in the slightest way while tears threatened to fall. 

The thing with existence is that you were just slammed into the life you were given and you _had_ to live it. Maybe not permanently, maybe not temporarily, but you still had to. And it damn well fucked you up.

But no matter how many times it would fuck you over, no matter how many times you cried for help through those same salty tears or through laughter, it still gave you that purpose that everyone - that _anyone_ craved.

And that still damn well _fucked_ you up. It always did.  

A purpose, such a silly thing.

Given or found.

Perhaps lost, but there somewhere. 

Perhaps lost. 

Lost because diplomas were given to over-achieving children instead of the children who ran to sit by the piano and cry into each other in the middle of the hallway. Lost because filthy money was given rather than giving applications to universities across the world. Lost because Phil sat at the bottom of the staircase, away from Dan and watching painfully as the distance expanded between them.

 _Come closer_. 

Eyes were still locked, fingers tapping, mind mapping out words that he did not dare to say aloud.

But it hurt, it hurt because their touch was not something to casually happen. Their touch wasn’t a playful shove or a squeeze on the knee.

It wasn’t at all.

It was weak arms around thin waists on school tiles, and it was sleep on a frail shoulder until music drained out their thoughts.

Temporary thoughts that were ever so permanent.

Permanent.

God, _no_.

_Dan? Come closer._

Thoughts but never acts. Thoughts but never words because sometimes that was better. Because sometimes speaking out would result in what he didn’t want. It would result in the tight grip of rough fingertips and it would result in little judgmental brown eyes behind brown, curly hair. 

 _Come. Closer._  

And fuck, he’d be damned if Dan’s lips ever grazed his hair again.

But do it again.

And again.

And again- 

“Dan?” Phil said suddenly, startling himself with his own voice. 

“Hm?” 

Say it. Speak up. Think and act. Think and speak. Say it, damn it, say it.

_Come cl-_

“What now?” He asked, and deep down he knew there was no answer, but for some reason he needed to hear what Dan had to say, no matter what it was. No matter whether it was a simple “I don’t know” or a “Nothing”. Just something.

And he couldn’t tell whether he wanted to hear what he had to say, or he just wanted to hear more of his tired, sad voice. 

But for a moment Dan didn’t know what to say because his thoughts were still lingering on the fact that he didn’t have to exist anymore and that it was nothing but weird. Not tragic, not unfortunate, not a lie. He could’ve failed school so easily but he graduated, more or less as he didn’t attend the ceremony, but he had found a small, ridiculous purpose in going to the burning building in which he would only be greeted with burning stares and burning insults, smoldering his skin until it’s just as pitch black as his insides were. But he’d rather spend eternity in hell than six feet under the surface with nothing but his thoughts. 

And now not even hell opened it’s gates for Dan anymore. He wouldn’t have to go to school on monday and he wouldn’t have to wake up. Dan had never felt like he had a purpose, because school was just pain and pain was still more than nothing but pain wasn’t a purpose either, even if his life tried to persuade him into thinking that hurting was. Living to hurt and hurting to live but school was over and nobody would call out his name just to check if he was there.

“I don’t know.” He began when he found his voice in the back of his throat where he tasted nothing, not even alcohol and he wondered when was the last time that he’d eaten. His stomach felt empty but he knew that there had been something on his tongue other than liquor and it must’ve been between yesterday and the days before because he had no sense of time anymore. 

“Do you?” The question sounded almost desperate for something else than the answers he predicted, than the answers that didn’t need to be said as it was just another rhetorical question. But Dan knew that Phil couldn’t hear the despair in his words, nobody could not even when _here_ wished for a _not_ just a second prior because he wished he wasn’t anymore.  

 _And god, Phil, I don’t have to exist anymore._  

And maybe it was the gap between them that turned shared pain into just pain and maybe Dan was glad that Phil didn’t understand that hell had closed it’s gates and a grave was almost five feet deep already. Because what could Phil say to make him stay when silence only drove him only further away, when kisses on hair drew distance and _I’m glad you stayed_ shoved railings into bony backs.

 _Do you know what to do?_  

And even if his eyes weren’t filled with tears he’d asked it as if they were streaming down his face in a starry night. His expression said nothing but right beneath his eyes he dug daggers into white walls until they spilled blood onto the floor. Ripped them open until they gave in and crumbled and revealed nothing but pitch black. He screamed at the top of his charcoal lungs as he waited patiently for Phil to answer and waited for him to read between the lines, but he wasn’t close enough. 

They weren’t on a dim lit street where not even the desire to die had to be held back, where arms around another didn’t mean anything but safety and comfort, where blood wasn’t trapped under pale skin and school was nothing but a hell they would enter together the next day. 

They were sitting in the staircase of an apartment building, sitting and sleeping and waking on red carpeted stairs as the sun wasn’t held back by closed blinds, drowning them both in it’s light as for once clouds didn’t bother to coat the sky in nothing but grey. Dan was feeling grey and he was urging rain just to make him able to cry out what he couldn’t in the sunlight.

But Phil couldn’t read between lines and Dan hated to be colourblind when the day was yellow and blue. 

“Do I know what to do..?” The words came out in repetition a couple of times underneath Phil’s breath, and his eyes fell to the tip of his shoe where the leather had torn off the edges. Leather torn off edges the same way skin tore off skin revealing liquid red.

Used.

He was _used. Fuck,_ he was _used._ He _let_ it happen.

Filthy.

Unpure. 

 _I don’t know what to do. God, Dan, I really don’t._  

_I don’t know what to do. Please, help me._

_I don’t know what to do. Please, come closer._  

_I don’t know what to d-_

“Maybe one day..One day I’ll know, and then I’ll tell you..” He murmured, expression going blank as lips moved slowly to the words he stopped thinking of. Mind gone blank but full of emotion. Mind gone fucking blank but full of thoughts. And he wanted to scream out for help because now he’d feel silly. He’d feel silly like purpose. 

Mind gone blank and- Fuck.

Home.

“Dan?” 

A brief pause, and then a questioning hum from the boy beside him, looking at his vacant face with a tilted head but Phil didn’t look back.

Too focused on the fucking _used._  

“I think- I think I should go home now.” It was awful, the way his words came out almost slurred as he stared out into nothing. The way he felt as if he was on drugs even though a simple cigarette had never even pushed itself in between his lips. The way his words sounded as if they were filled with alcohol even though his mouth had never even touched the lip of a bottle. The way it happened maybe too fast, in a split of a second because his brain went into overdrive and realization kicked him in the guts. 

Home because home was empty, abandoned of danger for a few hours. Home because he needed to change and shower, clean himself from the _filth_ because he was so used. Clean himself from the scent of a woman and scrub his skin raw to remove the mark that Dan saw and it made him want to puke to the thought of it.

“Dan?”

A frown on the boy’s face. “Yeah?” 

“Can I call you later? If-If anything happens? Will you pick up?” And suddenly his words were filled with some sort of fear, and his eyes dipped in the burning acid of paranoia. 

Because Dan might’ve deleted his number.

And Dan might not want to speak to him ever again.

Because all this was was an accident.

Like the first time they met.

And like sleep on a cold staircase when that same fear sent him out of a stranger’s apartment only to expose him when he just wanted to stay hidden. 

And somehow Dan could feel his heart sinking as he realized that there would be even more distance between them, even though he craved it. He could feel a tugging on the corners of his lips but it didn’t turn into a smile, even though he wished it would because he could only smile on a day like this. And somehow his heart sunk even further down, drawing distance between it and his ribcage so that it wouldn’t pound heavily against it, shaking Dan’s body. 

He didn’t know what to do, where to go when his mum was still upstairs in the always lit flat, the flat always filled with alcohol and agony and slurs. And Dan’s thoughts were still so loud and he wanted to ask all the question he couldn’t answer himself, get obvious answers because it _was weird_ that he didn’t have to go to school on monday. He wanted to write between the lines until the page was soaked in black ink and he wanted to ask Phil rhetorical questions to make a point and not to elicit an answer. 

 _Phil, if you leave nobody will call out my name._  

 _Phil, I don’t have to exist anymore._  

And he wished it would be obvious, that with every inch of distance the white of his eyes would turn a shade darker, his lips a shade paler and his blood a shade of blue. He wished Phil would stay because Dan was more home than a house filled with yelling and bruising. But they were both blind and stupid and they both wrote too much between the lines because they didn’t say enough. 

Dan didn’t know Phil and he didn’t know why his presence felt like school, like a fire smoldering his skin, like warmth and light, leaving nothing but charcoal black. Like hell and like heaven because _where the fuck was the difference_.  

 _Of course I would pick up._  

 _I would pick up just to hear you say my name._  

Maybe it was the withdrawal of the alcohol or the withdrawal of Phil’s warmth that made his heart seep and his thoughts circle. Or it was the day after his graduation that hauled the darkness out of his brain, painted his lungs black and wrote his desires between the lines instead of on his tongue. 

But the sun had brought questions, too many to answer and too many to ask out loud. And sometimes there were days like that, sometimes everything was worse than before and sometimes even breathing seemed unbearable just to be impossible the next day. 

“Of course I would.” He spat out the paint that filled his lungs, but not enough to make sense of the words that lingered in the air. 

_Call me even if nothing happens._

_Call me just to say my name._

“You would.” Phil breathed out, nodding for a few seconds. Dan would pick up. He said he’d pick up. 

 _How do I know you aren’t lying Dan?_  

 _Please don’t lie._  

 _“Of course I would.”_  

A guarantee that Dan would be here in the next couple of hours, and so would Phil. That Phil wouldn’t be dead on the streets as memories of hands on skin trailing down his bare spine engulfed him, and that Dan wouldn’t be dead with toxicity replacing the blood in his veins.  

He brought his weary eyes and connected them with Dan’s, staring at him for moments.

Home.

But which way was it?

_Is it you Dan?_

_Tell me it’s you._

_Tell me you’re home, damn it._

_I don’t want to go home._

_I don’t want to go home._

_I want to go home._

He found his arms wrapping around Dan’s neck, body melting into his warmth, melting into the other body until they joined into one.

_Let’s be one, Dan._

_Let’s be-_

Inhale the scent one last time. Inhale it because guarantees aren’t promises in this world. Because promises never left Dan’s mouth, and neither did they leave Phil’s.

And fuck he wanted to hear Dan promise him he’d pick up, because saying of course he would was not enough. He wanted to hear a promise because he didn’t want to be left alone. Not now, not ever again. Eighteen years was enough. Enough, enough, enough.

Skin against heat. Heat against heat. Skin against skin.

Skin against skin.

_Used._

_Filthy._

_Unpure._

“Thanks for letting me stay with you, Dan.”

“It’s no problem.”

Skin against nothing. Heat against nothing. Distance separated by more distance as Phil stood up from the staircase.

Sore back from uncomfortable, cold, metal railings.

Sore-   _fuck, get out damn it._

More distance as Phil walked away from the boy who he wished was home so he wouldn’t have to walk in the chilly November air, and he could _swear_ he heard the universe tear a little as he exited the building.

Then again, maybe it was simple the crunch of the crispy autumn leaves that had fallen from branches with no sound until they cried when Phil’s shoe pressed them into the cobblestone beneath him. Cry out for pain but no one could hear.

It was too late to turn back now, though. He couldn’t run back to Dan and glue himself to his side.

He didn’t do it the day before, and he wouldn’t do it now.

Cars passed by him as warm air grazed his face from the engines, wild strands of hair moving in the breeze.

_Don’t get in the car._

“Don’t get in the car..” He repeated to himself. Reminded himself that every time sweat rolled down his forehead and every time his body slid in the bed of another, he’d be so fucking _filthy. Filthy_ in what might be the cleanest bedsheets. _Filthy_ his eyes, and filthy in Dan’s.

“Whore..” The word rolled off his tongue almost gracefully, as if his mouth was already used to describing him with such a new vocabulary. It felt almost comforting, the sudden familiarity of the word, and that was sickening.

Phil looked up at the sky as he walked, exposed hands slid into the denim pockets, and he wondered about so many things that revolved around nothing. And the sky was beautiful, yeah, that’s what it was. It was the end of winter lifting, the promise to halt bad, grey days.

But that was just the sky, and the sky was different from Phil.

Switch memories, quick as he was only minutes from his doorstep. Switch memories. Something, anything.

And suddenly his cheeks were a bright red as the feeling of Dan’s lips against his hair felt way too real in his mind. Cheeks crimson as the smallest of smiles formed on his face.

_Pathetic, aren’t I? Getting worked up over a kiss that meant nothing._

But it meant something.

It meant a lot.

Phone in his pocket, that’s what he thought of when he crouched over to get the spare keys from underneath the doormat because God knows where he left his.

Phone in his pocket because Dan said of course he’d pick up.

Inhale the scent of-

Inhale the scent of what?

Inhale and hold your breath to not make a sound as a faint _click_ sounded. Hold your breath and fucking _pray_ to whatever God that didn’t exist that parents weren’t home to treat you like a punching bag when money was too low to afford a gym membership.

Inhale until his body was slumped against the bedroom door even though no one was home as he predicted, and finally, exhale.

Calm.

But that feeling was temporary, and not permanent at all.

He thought of Dan, his mom, his dad, graduation, and the money in his pocket. A wave of anxiety hit, but was lessened by the repeated thought of Dan.

It was odd how he wanted to stay away from him but at the same time all he wanted to do was be with him and hold him and-

There was at least a couple hours left until his parents would arrive, and that gave him enough time to drown beneath the shower head, watching the burning liquid roll down his chest, scorching hot water grilling his skin. It gave him enough time sit on the shower floor as he scrubbed his hardest on the part of his skin which he despised with his entire heart, but blood vessels broke and soap wouldn’t repair them, neither would tears or wishes that they’d go back to normal.

Hours had passed and he somehow spoke too soon, because as he stood crying in front of the mirror in his parents’ room, trying to somehow conceal the bruise with makeup and materials that were strangers to him, footsteps approached, and a stern, “Look who finally decided to come fucking home.”

Rough fingertips against fragile, shattered skin and-

“Please, let me go.”

Yanking of wrists as a desperate attempt to escape and-

“It h-hurts! Let me go!”

Thrown to the floor like a ragdoll, tall bodies hovering above him and-

“What the fuck is that on your neck, Phil?” His father spat as his mother stood watching. “I didn’t raise a fucking whore!”

 _Whore_.

“I-It’s none of your damn business! Leave me alone!” And for the first time, Phil shouted back.

_Think and don’t act._

_Think and don’t speak._

_Don’t speak, Phil, why did you fucking speak?_

Rough fingertips gripping tightly around the neck of an already suffocating being. “Say that again, one more time and see what happens.” His voice was calm, eeringly calm. It was _threatening_ and Phil was terrified.

Tears in his eyes, vomit in his mouth, blood in his throat, blood on his wrists and-

“L-Let me go-”

“Who’d you get it from, whore?”

“P-Please, d-dad, I-I can’t breathe-”

“Answer the fucking question, or I swear you won’t see the light of day again.”

No response.

Respond, Phil.

Dan, Dan, Dan.

Respond for D-

“Was it that boy here a couple days ago, huh? I didn’t raise no damn _queer._ Disappointing. Horrible excuse of a son. I _knew_ we shouldn’t have kept you, but your mother insisted. Do you know that? She insisted and now her son’s _queer. What a mistake._ ”

Lightheaded, white stars in blurry vision, oxygen running out.

_Queer._

_Mistake._

_Disappointing._

_Horrible._

Pushed back as the hand released his neck. Breathe, breathe come on Phil, breathe.

_Think and don’t speak._

_Think and don’t-_

“What if it fucking was, huh?! What the fuck does it matter?! What if it was him, dad?!” Phil was yelling - no, he was screaming - at this point. Screaming through gasps of air and through streaming tears. “You already hate me enough, this won’t change anything, wouldn’t it? Hate me more, God _please,_ hate me more because you’re the best fucking dad aren’t you? Hate me to the thought of him and I together, hate me because I’m _queer.”_

His father stared at him through stunned silence. Silence that wouldn’t last long because fists were warming up as they clenched at his sides. Stunned because Phil was known to take whatever was thrown at him.

But no, now Dan was attacked, and no one could ever attack Dan because Dan saved Phil and Phil wouldn’t allow one wrong word to slip about him from the mouths of others, _especially_ from the mouth of the man in front of him.

“Fuck you, dad, and fuck you mom for standing there. Fuck you both. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!-”

_Stop speaking._

Fingers wrapped around his dirty collar, aggressively pulling him from the floor.

Back slammed onto the wall behind him.

_Room, room._

_Go to your room, now._

Fists connecting with jaws and bridges of noses and blood spewing out onto the floor beneath them. Agonizing cries of “S-Stop!” and pleads that were filled with more hurt than ever.

“You’ve got one fucking mouth on you, Phil.” Growled his father, grabbing his bruised up and bloody face in his hand. “How much do you get paid with that queer little mouth of yours? Huh?”

“I hate you.” Phil choked on tears and blood and Jesus he’d be lucky to be alive after this.

“Don’t let me see your face around my house ever again. You’ve got two days to pack your bags and get the hell out of here. You aren’t my son. You never were, and never will be.”  

And off Phil ran into his bedroom, lunging forwards with every dry cough and attempt to breath after everything was sucked out of him.

_Phone, phone._

_Where’s the damned phone?_

Shaky fingers held up by a trembling body hold up a shivering phone to his ear that still rung from the loud voices. 

_Pick up. You said you would._

“Phil?” Answered a tired voice and Phil wished he could hear it in person. 

“D-Dan, I want it to stop. I can’t do this. I want to l-leave. Can I leave? Will you let me leave?” 

“W-What? Phil, love, please calm down. What happened? A-Are you hurt?” Concern. So much of it.

“I’m gonna leave, Dan.”


	9. Chapter 9

“I’m gonna leave, and it’ll be fine. Y-You won’t have to deal with me and- Fuck, I’m sorry I called. I really am-”

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Dan tried, sitting up on his bed, cursing his lips for calling Phil _love_ , just because his mum used to and his mum didn’t anymore. “What happened? Just tell me what happened, okay?”

“I-It doesn’t matter. You know why, Dan?” Phil replied, a trembling breath leaving his lips. “Because he said I was a _mistake,_ Dan. And he’s fucking right. I wanna leave, _please._ ” He choked out, tugging at his own shirt in a sort of anger.

“No, no Phil you’re not a mistake and you know you’re not” And Dan wanted to say that what happened mattered, because it happened and it hurt Phil and it made him _want to leave_ . It mattered and the only thing that didn’t was how fucking tired Dan was, exhausted from the day, but god, _that_ didn’t matter.

“I am, I am. It’s all I-I’ve ever been.” Phil was practically sobbing into his phone, clutching it with both hands and pressing it to his ear. “God, this is so fucking embarrassing I don’t know why I called. I shouldn’t have called and I’m bothering you and-”

“No Phil you-” He wanted to say all the things that were written between the lines but he was torn, because _you’re not a mistake, you’re lovely and you’re fucking beautiful,_ just wasn’t an option right now. And maybe it was and maybe he should’ve said it, but Dan was torn and tired and Phil was hurting. “You could never bother me, it’s okay, it’ll be okay.”

“But it won’t be. Because I have to be out of here in two days, Dan. _Two. Days._ Where am I even meant to go? I barely have money from-” Phil caught himself before he slipped because there was no way he could ever let Dan find out. Not now, not ever.

And right before he could complete his thought, a loud “Get off the fucking phone and give it to me, Phil!” accompanied by a bang on his door caused Phil to jump.

But he almost immediately shouted back a “Fuck off and leave me alone!” which then resulted in a low chuckle filled with venom behind the door and incoherent mumbling, and Phil knew he fucked up even more.

“I don’t know what to do, I really don’t..” He continued on the phone to Dan, a whimper escaping alongside his words.

And it almost broke Dan’s already shattered heart once again, hearing the despair in Phil’s voice and hearing him cry and not being right next to him behind the locked door. It broke his heart that all he could do was talk and he wasn’t good at talking, at soothing when all he could remember was the word _love_ out of his mother’s mouth and no more as so much time had passed.   
“I know.” He pressed his eyelids together, trying to think, trying to be quiet as his mother was awake and drinking and still angered, but that didn’t matter. “I know and- can you get out of your room? Do you want me to come? You can stay with me and we can sleep in the fucking staircase, just- just tell me what to do.”

“I-If I step foot outside he’ll hurt me, Dan. And if you come he’ll hurt you and- I-I just want to stay with you and I shouldn’t have left but I did and he fucking _hurt_ me when all I wanted to do is s-sleep next to you and now I fucking _can’t.”_ He rambled words he wasn’t sure he should say, but his head was too messy to think clearly and he honestly couldn’t care less because he just wanted to _leave._ “Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be though..Maybe I’m supposed to get hurt, Dan.”

“No, Phil you’re not supposed to get hurt, you’re-” _you’re supposed to be loved_ and Dan would say it if he knew how and how to make those words taste like anything but acid on his tongue, but he didn’t and they burnt and he was choking on them like it was the black paint in his lungs. “You don’t deserve this, I’m so sorry Phil, tell me what to do, please tell me what I could do.”

There was silence for a moment as he thought, but how could he think clearly when all his mind told him was _die, die, die._ He wanted help. He _needed_ help and he _needed_ Dan. “Dan, I- I don’t know anymore. I don’t want him to hurt you and I don’t want you to bleed like me because you shouldn’t have to because it’s _me._ It’s me, Dan. And I realized that if I did leave no one would care, or miss me. Not even you- Fuck, come over _please_. I’m sorry, Dan, I’m sorry.”

 _Five days_ , five fucking days and they were already more dependent on each other than the moon was on the sun and Dan’s heart was bleeding because his mind was torn and _of course he would come over,_ he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t stay and he shouldn’t fucking stay for Phil but _god_ , did he want Phil to stay for him.

“Don’t apologize, please just- just wait I’ll be there.” He got off his bed and his hand laid on the doorknob a little too long before he turned it with a click. “Do you want me to stay on the phone?” And he only asked, because he didn’t know what else to ask as he walked past his mother without looking up once, without answering her questions, without stopping until he’s out of the apartment building.

“Please.” Phil whispered, and it sounds so desperate and pathetic but what else could he do when Dan’s voice was the only thing keeping him mildly sane at the moment and what else could he do when Dan’s voice was the only thing keeping him from tossing himself out of his own damned window? “He was talking, or yelling I don’t know, to me earlier and he said I was horrible, and I think he’s right. I am horrible for dragging you into this, aren’t I? I’m horrible, Dan, and it’s so fucking funny, did you know that?” He started up again with his rambling, ending his sentence with such a sad chuckle as tears dripped down his cheeks and teeth gritted against each other.

“You’re not horrible, you’re-” _lovely and beautiful and you’re Phil_. “You’re not dragging me into anything, I’m your friend okay?” And friends walk through the cold November air and friends call each other lovely and beautiful. That’s what friends do, because Dan never had any other friends than Phil and how would he know, how could he draw a line between _fucking_ _heaven and hell._  

“Friend.” Phil repeated the unfamiliar word underneath his breath, and the way it rolled off his tongue felt better than the way ‘whore’ did. And ‘whore’ had a sickening comfort to it, but ‘friend’ didn’t. It felt weird but the good type of weird. Though how would Dan consider Phil his friend? He wouldn’t if he knew what other words left Phil’s mouth to describe himself, he was sure.

“Dan, do you regret meeting me in the middle of the streets five days ago?” Because what if Dan was coming over because he felt forced to, because he felt nothing but pity towards him just like everyone else? Maybe Dan was going through all this effort for Phil just to be kind, not because he cared, and maybe he called Phil ‘love’ for that same reason too.

“No.” He said as puffs escaped his hesitant lips, even though he knew for sure that he didn’t regret a second of it. He didn’t regret walking outside in the middle of the night after bottles had shattered against walls and yells had drowned in just another sip of alcohol. He didn’t regret holding Phil and he didn’t regret saving him and getting saved, even if he regretted not dying that night. _And how could I, you’re the best fucking thing that ever happened to me._

But he didn’t say it, even if a simple no might not be enough to convince Phil’s toxic mind and even if he repeated it for himself a million times, because he didn’t want to hear his own thoughts. Didn’t want to hear them yell and _you’re making me stay you fucking bastard_ and he cursed his mind and his selfishness, because nothing mattered but Phil.

And to his answer, halted tears resumed silently, and Phil didn’t know what to say to ‘no’ because all he could ask to that was ‘why?’. He wondered how he’d meet Dan, because he was most likely only ten minutes away and Phil hadn’t figured out a way to actually join the two together and he hoped his dad would pass out soon so he could sneak Dan in the same way he snuck Dan out.

But he got caught, and he was hurt as Dan said goodbye by his words and his touch and hurt by the words and touch of hands that weren’t as gentle.

“Do you have cigarettes with you?” Phil suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had formed besides the sound of cobblestone crunching beneath Dan’s shoes, and it wasn’t really the time for such questions but he didn’t care.

“Why are you asking?” Dan’s free hand gets hold of the packet in the pouch of the hoodie he’d changed into after finally returning to the flat. There were four cigarettes left from the past two days and if he wasn’t occupied with walking as fast as he could while talking to Phil, he would put one between his lips right now. Inhale the smoke and pour black paint into his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. It’s calming, they say, it’s calming because _smoking kills_ is only advertising it even more.

“Because I wanna smoke, Dan. With you. On my floor or on my bed or on the staircase or wherever but I just want to _smoke_ even though I’ve never done it before because it’s so simple and I _need_ simple, Dan.” Phil replied, voice showing how tired he was through every word that he let out. “Will you let me? Please?”

“I don’t want to get you into smoking, it’s bad, it smells and it tastes bad.” And Dan didn’t want to paint Phil’s lungs as black as his own, didn’t want to smell anything else but the ocean when he was close to Phil. “Why do you want to? How do you even know that I smoke?”

“I saw you at school once but that’s not the point-” Phil sighed and ran his fingers through his hair as he curled up on the bed. “I won’t get into smoking, I promise. Just once. Only once. W-We’ll share one if people even do that if you don’t want me smoking one on my own but please, just this once?”

Dan couldn’t understand how Phil urged the relief only a cigarette could provide, when he’d never tasted it before, but people just desire things they never had. Dan desired things he never had. “Okay, this once and I’m almost at your house.” He could see the seemingly so normal fassade of Phil’s home already and he could feel the anxiety in his airless lungs grow with each step. “Do you have a plan?”

“I- No. Give me a second,” Phil muttered and closed his eyes as he thought. It had to be quick so that they wouldn’t get hurt. He wished he could simply teleport Dan into his room with the snap of his fingers, but reality wasn’t kind enough to grant that wish, and nor was it even possible. He chewed on his bottom lip, peeling at the skin with his teeth and ignoring the stinging sensation he felt where it was torn. “When you’re in front of my apartment’s door, let me know and I’ll come and get you.”

“No Phil you can’t open your door. What if your dad is waiting for it?” Dan assumed because that’s what his mother did, wait and sit until the lock clicks. “Isn’t there any other option? I don’t want you to get hurt just because of me.” _You have so much already._ He pushed open the door of the apartment building and the staircase wasn’t coated in red but cold tiles and he tried to keep each step as silent as he could, when there was no carpet to muffle the sound.

“I-It’s fine. It’ll be fast and you’ll be okay and so will I.” Phil said, and he was terrified that there was a chance he wouldn’t reach the door because he’d be dragged all the way back to where he was to greet additional bruises rather than Dan. “There’s no other option, it’ll be okay.” He continued and then sighed softly. _Please let it be okay._ “Are you here?”

“Yeah, I’m in front of your flat.” His voice was just a whisper because he feared it all going wrong and he feared it being his fault. “Please be careful.” He feared hearing yelling instead of the click of a door and he feared standing in front of the apartment once again not able to go back inside to tell Phil’s parents how fucking much they’d messed up.

Phil hadn’t quite thought this through because he didn’t know his father’s whereabouts at all. Just that he roamed the hallways, waiting and ready to pounce. A predator and prey. That’s what they were. He slowly got up from the bed, making sure he produced little to no creaks and made his way over to the door.

How far away was the main door from his room? He didn’t know and he never knew, and now he’d have to hope for the best. It can take less than a minute, or it can take up to hours. It was now or never and Phil preferred the option of now. He always preferred the option of now.

So he slowly opened his door and poked his head out before bolting towards the door that Dan stood behind, fumbling with the door knob and managed to get it open.

He forgot about the blood on his face and the bruises on his cheek, and he didn’t think when he grabbed Dan’s hand and rushed them towards his room before he quickly locked it.

It took up to a minute and no one got hurt.

Dan wasn’t hurt and Dan was here.

Dan was _here_ and-

He almost stumbled over himself when he crashed his body into Dan’s, wrapping his arms around him and letting out a sigh that spoke the words ‘ _You’re okay’_ because Phil never wanted to have Dan experience the violence of his father. “Thank you so much for coming.” He murmured into his shoulder, and as soon as the two were in the same room, it was as if nothing had ever happened, and everything was fine.

But nothing actually was, and Phil’s appearance showed that very clearly.

And Dan had his hands on Phil’s shoulders when he broke away from the hug just to look at his face and the damage that was made, the damage he hadn’t prevented and the blood he hadn’t stopped from spilling. The door was locked and they were safe but they never really were and even if it felt okay, it never really was because just Phil’s appearance made Dan’s heart bleed.

He looked tired and even if Dan was tired himself, he was sure he didn’t look as exhausted as Phil did and he just wanted to pull him down onto the floor and let him lay his head on his shoulder until he’d fall asleep. But his eyes screamed for more than a shoulder and for more than a just seconds lasting hug and Dan lifted his hands off his shoulders, but they just hovered above them because he couldn’t bring himself to touch his face.

Touch where Phil’s lips had caved in under the fist of his father and touch where it drew blood and touch where it was painted in lilac shades. Where the pain dwelled and Dan wanted to make it go away, but his fingertips were covered in acid and so was his tongue and he couldn’t. Couldn’t say anything but “Oh Phil” and couldn’t do anything but draw his eyebrows together in concern.

The blood on Phil’s skin had dried, but Dan’s heart was still bleeding because Dan couldn’t cry and Dan couldn’t scream. Rhetorical questions in his head, still lingering on the point he had made, the point Phil couldn’t read and he wanted to ignore it, because it didn’t matter.

Phil mattered, his suffering did and if Dan could make it okay somehow he would.

“We have to wash this off” he mumbled, voice kept low to draw no attention on himself or the boy in front of him.

“Wash it all away..” Phil’s voice broke into a silent whimper as he spoke, and he stared at Dan who stared back at all the imperfections in front of him.

And then there was a switch.

“What’s that song, Dan? Something about washing the rain away was it?” He asked, bringing his hands up and curling his fingers around Dan’s wrists. Warm, but yet it was so cold.

Feeling drunk but his mouth had never touched the lip of a bottle.

Feeling as if he were on drugs but his blood and lungs were never intoxicated.

Random words before the surface tension would shatter.

Dan looked at him with a tilted head. He watched Phil with confusion as he thought in silence. Watched him rummage through his mind to remember such an unnecessary thing at the wrong moment.

“I think it went like, ‘let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday’, right? Do you know the song, Dan?” He continued, a sad, faint smile tugging the corner of his lips. And suddenly there was another moment of silence.

_Let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday._

_Dan? Will you be my rain?_

_Please by my rain._

_Be my rain, Dan._

“Be my-"

Tears flooded his eyes before he could complete the sentence and it was as if everything hit him all at once again, and the smile had vanished perhaps too quickly.

Phil cried as if his brain was being shredded from the inside, clutching Dan’s hands close to his chest as it rose and fell with every heaving breath. Emotional pain flowed out of every one of his pores and _God,_ he wanted it to stop. He wanted to stop feeling hands on him unless they were Dan’s, and he wanted to stop hearing words unless they came from Dan but it wouldn’t work that way. His jaw clenched tightly, almost as if it would break and his head hung low as a cry came from his mouth, so raw that he might’ve even caught Dan’s eyes glazing with tears as well.  He held onto Dan’s hands as if they would stop him from violently shaking into a fall to the floor and from his eyes came a thicker stream of tears.

He held onto Dan’s hands as if they would erase his mistakes, and erase everything he didn’t want to be.

He held onto Dan’s hands as if they would wipe the memories from his mind and the clinging blood from his face.

“Nothing’s g-gonna wash away how hurt I am-” He sobbed and he wanted to put a pause to his tears because he’s cried so much in front of Dan in the last five days that it started to feel more pathetic by the day. “N-Not even if you were my rain..” He whispered, agony coating every letter.

He wanted to wash the red from his skin and the tears from his eyes so that Dan could look at him and put his hands on his face, and that Phil wouldn’t be horrible to look at anymore. But he couldn’t even bring himself to start walking to the bathroom before he rambled nonsense, and that nonsense turned into nothing but heavy tears.

His hands detached from Dan’s, finding himself moving away from him in a heap of embarrassment as he pulled his own hands up, pressing his palms to his eyes while he breathed unevenly.

_Calm down._

He was sure he looked heart-wrenching, and he wanted to apologize so badly to Dan for the sight that he was. But instead, words such as “C-Can’t breathe-” and “H-Help-” came out of his mouth, and it was at those moments where he also remembered his father’s hand around his neck and everything had become too loud until he died down to a silently strained mess.  

And Dan could only watch. For a few seconds he could only watch the tears welling in Phil’s eyes and for a few seconds he could only listen to the words that made his heart bleed. Dan’s mind went blank and his hands went limp as he faltered with his movements. He stood there, lips parted because he wanted to say so many things, but he couldn’t.

Because it hurt, it hurt because they were strangers and strangers don’t share pain and it was confusing, because it went from _you’re okay_ to _god please don’t cry_ in the fragment of a second. It felt like the night they’d met and worse, because now he wasn’t just a boy on the street about to get run over by cars, he was Phil and he was breaking down right before his eyes.

But how could Dan hurt when Phil shattered and how could he be tired when Phil was drained and exhausted and how could Dan breathe when Phil couldn’t.

He took a step forward, just to wrap his arms tightly around the sobbing figure, trying to hold together what was already in shards, piercing through his own skin, but how could he care. How could he care when Phil’s tears soaked his shoulder and his sobs were stifled by his embrace.

“Shh.” He tried once again, fingers rubbing over the fabric of the thin shirt and eyelids pressed together, trying to keep his lips away from the ruffled black hair as if it would only hurt Phil even more. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

But it wasn’t, it wasn’t in the slightest bit and maybe it never would be, maybe they’d break down every single night and maybe they wouldn’t be there to save the other. Maybe there was just was too much pain and too much trauma to soothe. Maybe they couldn’t change their pathetic fate to die on a dim lit street and maybe it was all just a waste of time and pain.

“We will be okay.” And Dan cursed his lips for even making these promises, when he didn’t even believe in them himself. He wanted Phil to be okay and he tried to convince himself that he would be in the future, once he was out of this house and away from all the pain his parents caused. But as much as he expected Phil to live, he expected himself to die.

And Dan didn’t even expect it, he knew he would and as much as he wanted to care and as much as he wanted to be absolutely delusional and believe that he could live a happy life, he knew he wouldn’t. He wasn’t the kind of person to burst into laughter, to go out with friends into cheap nightclubs and make out with random girls. He was alone and he drank alone and _god_ , he _knew_ he would die alone.

And he could say the truth, could just say that it would never work out, that Phil would always have scars shattered across his skin and bruises, even if they’ve faded they’re graved into his brain and his brain wouldn’t forget. Dan’s brain didn’t forget, he could recall every single moment of pain and despair. Moments of him rambling nonsense to himself, in his dark room when another bottle of useless liquor got emptied and breaking down seemed so easy. When tears simply dripped down his face in a never ending stream and his chest rose and fell way too fast to actually catch a breath. When a smile tugged on his lips because he could only repress the pain, because it would kill him in an instant. Draw him to pills and blades and robes and streets.

Dan could’ve just told the truth and said that they both would live until their body gives in or their mind. He could’ve been honest and said that he didn’t even expect himself to live past eighteen, because he fucking couldn’t even see himself alive tomorrow. But it’s so easy to be optimistic for others. 

Maybe because he wished someone would be for him, someone would say that he would be okay even if he wouldn’t believe it. Or just because he didn’t want Phil to hurt.

And when he pulled away, just to rest his hands on warm skin and his eyes on split lips and lilac shades, he didn’t want Phil to cry or bleed either.

Even though Dan feared Phil’s father to hear the heavy sobs and the quiet begs, he feared being unable to soothe the pain in the blue of his eyes even more. So he just wrapped his fingers gently around Phil’s wrist and lead him to the bathroom.

“Just- just sit down and try to breathe okay?” He sounded desperate and he truly was. Everything had happened so quickly and everything went down so fast and the only thing that echoed in his mind was Phil’s voice and his words. _Will you let me leave?_  

As if it was Dan’s decision, as if he could decide whether Phil could live or not and he wished it actually was in his hands, because he would never let him leave. Dan wished he could just make Phil happy and make him smile and make the pain wash away like rain could in a sappy song from 2010, but he could barely keep himself alive. 

All he could do for now was grab one of the towels stacked under the sink and open the water tap. He apologized for not being any help, for not staying and trying to protect him from his father’s touch, but his voice drowned in the sound of splashing water, darkening the cloth in his shaky hands until he turned it off again. 

He turned around to kneel down on the white tiles in front of Phil, who sat on the closed toilet lid with his face buried in his hands. Stifled sobs escaped his lips and silent tears damped his palms, wettening Dan’s fingers as they got ahold of Phil’s to be able to wash off the blood on his skin. 

“It will be okay” Dan assured as his thumb lightly grazed the glistening traits under Phil’s misty eyes, before he cupped his face and dabbed the cloth against the red tinted skin. Carefully he wiped away the blood, trying not to brush any of the bruises or cuts and ignoring the warmth under his fingertips that drew him closer than ever to the boy in front of him. 

It was silent except for the soft sniffles that became more quiet with each passing second. Dan expected a loud thud against the locked bedroom door at any moment, but nothing happened. His eyebrows were drawn together in concern and his lips were still parted, ready to whisper another soothing lie just to calm Phil down completely. But it felt daring to even breathe, when their faces were this close. Daring to inhale the scent and daring to look into the ocean without diving into it.

So as soon as he’d washed off all the blood, he drew back his fingers and got off his knees, feeling the regret suffocate him as his skin turned cold again and he questioned how drowning could be worse than breathing in polluted air. 

Phil’s eyes followed Dan as he returned to a standing position, but he caught his reflection in the mirror across from him as he looked away shamefully and that only made him feel worse.

Yet there were no tears, just a hurt-filled stare as he skimmed over his appearance, focusing on the puffed up state of his eyes and a face that’s bruises were more visible since the blood had been wiped away. A sigh parted his lips, and he took a couple moments to focus on his breathing after he’d been able to calm down due to the soft voice from the boy in front of him and the gentle touch of his fingers against his harmed skin. 

And out of all the words in the dictionary that could be used to describe such a painful experience, both physically and emotionally, the only thing that came to Phil’s head was that it completely sucked. 

He brought himself to stand up, feeling the blood rush to his head almost way too fast before he lost balance for a moment and exhaustion hit him all at once, though thankfully Dan was able to get a hold of him, a quiet and mumbled, “Woah, careful now.” coming out from him after he made sure that Phil wasn’t going to tip over. Then their eyes met, and Phil’s eyebrows drew themselves together in distress. 

He’s sure that his own complexion is ashen. His naturally pale skin has sunken in tone into something so lifeless and tired, and he wonders if it might even scare Dan to look at Phil. The blue, empty eyes that are so very full of emotion hide behind his eyelids as he closes them for a second, sucking him into a deeper place to cope with all that has happened. He wants Dan to hold his face in a delicate manner again, and to take care of him once more because no one ever bothered to, not even Phil. And the thought of that barely seemed enough, yet his heart rate was as if it came down to twenty beats per minute. Though when his eyes flutter open, they reconnect their fixation of a soft stare. 

Everything in him wanted to take back what had just happened, to rewind to the moment where his arms were around Dan once he led him through the door, and to enjoy his presence while it lasted because neither of them were sure how long they’d last before they snapped. 

“I’m really sorry for..acting the way I did. You shouldn’t have to see that of me and I-” He finally said, voice raspy and throat aching as he spoke from the earlier cries. 

But Dan shook his head, such a sad smile tugging the corner of his lips and it was barely even visible, but it was there. “No need to say sorry,” He replied, his voice clear unlike Phil’s yet hushed, “Are you alright?” 

It was a question so often accompanied by a lie, a simple “yes” with a short nod, and it was a question that’s answer was obvious either way.

So Phil figured, why lie? 

“No.” He bluntly said and scoffed wistfully as he wrapped his arms around his body, desiring unobtainable comfort for the time being. “But it will be.” The statement came out unsure, and his tone was very questionable. 

Though Dan nodded, his eyes shifting to nothing before they gazed back into Phil’s enervated eyes, “It will.”

Nothing more than a soothing lie, that’s what it was. 

Despite that, the same sorrowful smile appeared on Phil’s smile, barely there but enough, just like Dan’s. He knew there was a chance that nothing would change, that everything would remain the same and perhaps worse, but if there was the tiniest chance that it would actually be okay, then maybe, just maybe he’d consider that offer. 

“Thank you.” 

He knew that he had to somehow repay Dan for everything that he’d done for Phil. For holding him in his arms in the middle of the night, to sitting beside him as their bodies moved forward with every hard slam on the door behind them, to playing the piano for him, to letting him sleep the night with him, and for making a huge effort to come all the way over to his home filled with never-ending agony. 

He even knew he had to repay him for now where they sat surrounded by thick puffs of grey smoke, inhaling poison and ripping lungs. 

The window on the other side of the room remained closed, keeping what killed them intact. Suffocating on relaxation and suffocating on a slow death. The old, overused mattress beneath their bodies creaked every time Phil would lazily raise his hand to pinch a cigarette between his fingers as he took it from Dan, taking a long drag and coughing every once in a while which only resulted in Dan widening his eyes a little in concern but calming back down once Phil told him he was fine, chuckling a little as he did so. And as the smoke slithered out from behind his lips, he’d follow it as it joined with the cloud above their heads.

Everything switched to warm, and nothing was cold. 

Dan’s shoulder was warm against Phil’s cheek, and their arms were warm against each other with their backs leaning against pillows on Phil’s bed, both covered in a thin blanket up to their necks that was surely stained with the smell of cigarettes by now. Tobacco was warm in their mouths as it slid down their throats, and minds were warm with the thoughts of each other. 

However, cigarettes don’t last forever. Their time was limited like everything else. Their usage only pleasurable for the simple limitation, and nothing more.

Their usage.

Usage.

 _Usage._  

It was almost like a game, really. His thoughts waiting, ready to pounce at any given trigger whether intentional or unintentional, and they came crawling back ever so slowly, standing behind his brain as they carefully grazed fingertips around him, intensifying with increasing intoxication. 

He lifted his head from Dan’s shoulder, feeling the boy shift beside him and quizzically look at him, wondering what had happened. Phil reached over him, the blanket falling on their laps, towards the packet of cigarettes as Dan took the last smoke, the cigarette itself so short in his hand that it could almost burn him, before a hand held him back. He looked back at the tired, brown-haired boy with a thin layer of tears glistening and highlighting the striking blue. 

“One more-” 

The smell and taste in the air was so bitter, and it was a love-hate relationship with it at this point. 

“Phil, I- No, you just said one-” 

Phil furrowed his eyebrows, wanting to accept the fact that Dan was not going to give him another cigarette, but at the same time he didn’t. He was gently pushed back away from the packet to where he originally was beside Dan by his hand, the two maintaining eye contact as it happened. His gaze dropped to the lips in front of his eyes as they were now face-to-face, breaths brushing below each other’s noses at a close enough yet still almost safe distance and they could smell how mint was replaced by nicotine. He saw how his lips were slightly parted after finishing his sentence, revealing two off-white teeth behind them, and he inhaled the last bits of smoke that escaped them as Dan spoke. Now frozen in that position, a single tear trickled from his eye even if he didn’t mean for it to and he wanted to _stop crying_ but his body wouldn’t cooperate.  

“Please?” He asked instead and the plead came out in a hushed whisper, eyebrows still drawn together as he flickered his lamentable eyes upwards to meet Dan’s, ogling into them once more with such woefulness. 

The room was immersed in the faint light of the lamp on the nightstand next to the bed they sat on and the silence was too delicate to break with refusal. So Dan just shook his head as he stared into Phil’s pleading eyes, which were now a darker shade, the yellow in it drowned by the blue and the only sparkle in it was the light reflecting on the layer of tears. 

It was hard to resist when the small flame of a lighter could’ve made the glistening traits on the boy’s cheek vanish. When it was just another cigarette, just a few more drags, a few more inhales of the coarse smoke and a few more relieved exhales. It was just a cigarette and maybe he should’ve just said yes, but it was also an addiction he would draw Phil to. A cigarette as a way to cope and smoke as a way to fill the void. But Dan had only promised one and no more. 

For a few seconds they just stared at each other, eyes locked as Dan’s hand remained on Phil’s chest, as the tears arose in the black haired boy’s eyes once more. If he wouldn’t smoke, he would break down again and for a few seconds Dan didn’t know how to keep the tears from falling. He still didn’t know how to soothe pain, how to handle the emotions of others when he could barely manage his own, even if he’d held Phil as he cried so many times already. 

They were so close that Dan could count every freckle on the pale, bruised skin, making his heart beat faster than it should’ve in that moment. Filling his mind with doubt and longing for a word to break the silence. 

He wanted to push Phil further away as his eyes trailed down to his lips, as he could feel every exhale that escaped them on his skin. But Dan only found himself taking the fabric of Phil’s shirt between his fingers, grasping it hesitantly. He didn’t know what he was doing, but something about it felt as familiar as the scent of ocean and smoke that lingered in the air between them. 

And he wanted to push Phil further away as he shifted in his position only to lean in, but Dan tugged on the fabric in his grasp ever so slightly instead. Pulling the boy in front of him so close that their noses brushed and their breaths mingled. Shaky, faltering breaths that grazed their lips without touching. 

He knew he couldn’t do it, couldn’t allow himself to give in into the longing that made his heart rive with agony. But he was so tired of trying to fill the void with alcohol and cigarettes, with liquid that would only pour out and bitter smoke that would fade with just another exhale. 

He was tired of being tired and tired of destroying everything that would make him stay, that would attach him to the world of misery he couldn’t escape from, attach him to something worth living for.

But he knew he couldn’t, nothing was worth the pain of alcohol down his throat, of razor blades against his skin and bottles shattering in sync with his heart. 

He could feel the tears well beneath his closed eyelids and he just wanted to pull Phil closer, just another inch, but his fingers were limp as their foreheads touched.

 _God_ , he couldn’t do it, they couldn’t do it and it sent knives through his heart to even think of it. It felt like death as much as bereavement and it was so unbelievably desired that it could only be a sin.  

He wanted to tilt his head so that not even the suffocating air could get between them, but he couldn’t move as his thoughts begged for distance. 

He silently begged Phil to come closer, to not make him do it, because he couldn’t. He couldn’t because his mind was filled with dread and doubt, with internalized fear and loathing.

His grip tightened around the fabric of Phil’s shirt, but he couldn’t bring himself to tug on it. He longed for a few more inches, his heart seemed to scream for it more than his lips did but his thoughts were so much louder. So unbearably loud that he feared giving in more than one of them pulling away. 

He could feel Phil’s breath on his lips, only making him hold his own, locked in his deflating lungs. He didn’t know what he was doing and he knew that what he was doing was wrong. Wrong for strangers and wrong for friends, wrong for knowing each other for five days and wrong for being boys. 

Dan blamed it on the deprivation of sleep that left their minds hazy and intensified their desire for comfort. He blamed it on the loneliness and the nicotine in their lungs that drew them closer than it should’ve, trying to make his thoughts shut up just for a second, just long enough to make the right decision. 

But all he could think about was the boy in front of him, of the strangling gap between them, equally as he wished for distance, for another contra argument and a way to stop the time. Stop it right here on Phil’s bed, his lips close enough to count every exhale, his chest under Dan’s fingertips, feeling every beat of his heart and their foreheads pressed against each other, exchanging warmth equally as cold. The scent of the ocean, equally briny as sweet in the suffocating air, mixed with bitter smoke and something too familiar. But seconds passed, seconds of shallow breaths and heart wrenching longing. 

It was almost like something straight out of a romance novel or movie, the way their eyes were both sealed shut, and the way nervousness left Phil’s lips as his hand traveled up Dan’s chest, gripping his shirt lightly and another hand traveled up his arm to rest on his shoulder, twisting the fabric in his fingers as well. 

There was no sound other than two slow but unsteady heartbeats,and two pairs of lungs that exhaled hesitant, wavering breaths with every inch that would close between them. 

And Phil wanted to laugh when his lips brushed against the corner of Dan’s mouth because it only felt right to since it seemed so normal, though nothing about this was. A laugh and “normal” because they were just two teenagers who had just graduated, feeling something towards each other that they dismissed as nothing and gave excuses to, and it was so innocent. The aching, churning feeling in his stomach that would be generally described as “butterflies” pained him so much because no matter how much he tried to push his feelings away, he was certain he was falling for the boy underneath his touch and it only left him wanting something he couldn’t get. 

But no matter how innocent it was, it could never be okay. It could never be fine because again, it was nothing but wrong. 

Yet Dan’s lips were so pretty that they were almost as pretty as him. They were a pale pink that reminded Phil of a rosebud. His top lip was thinner, but not too thin, and it had a natural cupid’s bow; the bottom was larger, and more plush. He craved to feel his lips against his own, to be able to press their bodies together and forget his worries only for the amount of time that their lips moved together in yearning the same way he did when a cigarette inserted poison in him, clouding his thoughts and now emotions as well as the space above their heads. 

And maybe he was about to prove himself wrong when he felt Dan tilt his head ever so slightly so that his mouth moved towards Phil’s lips, parting just enough and grip tightening on his shirt to show how desperate he was, and Phil was no different in that. But Phil pulled back away so that the tips of their noses grazed rather than lips to skin, leaving them both with increasing things to think about. 

He wanted to ask himself why he moved away, and why he couldn’t just let himself get what he wanted, but instead a “What are we doing?” came out inside in a whisper that’s words were barely audible and shattered in so much regret, sadness and torment

Dan shook his head as much as he could while making sure he wouldn’t disrupt their position. “I don’t know..” But he gently tugged on Phil’s clothes, letting a breathy and quiet, “Phil..” leave him, as if asking him to go back to where he was and more and Phil knew that. 

But as much as he knew, something in him kept pulling him back, and it was equally frustrating as it was upsetting. And as much as he wanted to fulfil both of their wishes, he ended up dropping his head and burying it in the crook of Dan’s neck, letting out a warm sigh against his skin. He still wrapped his fingers in Dan’s shirt because the heat spread all through out and it was similar to the heat cigarettes provided: comforting, but it was going to backfire on him one day and he was aware of it. 

Even with silence, everything now seemed so loud. The heartbeats in their chests were prominent in his ears, feeling every thud against his forehead and he wondered if Dan could feel it too, and the breaths that left their lungs with the aching in his stomach overpowered anything else, and he couldn’t even think if he wanted to. But maybe that was okay, because thinking now would never end and he was already so tired. Thinking now would cause in rationalism, and maybe being irrational was okay for once. 

The silence was both too much and too little. Too little because nothing was being said, and too much for the same reason. But too little resulted in different things than too much, and maybe Phil would rather leave it at that, but in the end it didn’t really matter. 

And after minutes of silence, he was hit with the realization that Dan had to leave. He had to leave because Phil wasn’t his home and he probably never could be, and he had to leave because maybe what happened made him want to never see Phil again to be able to forget. But Phil didn’t want him to leave. He never wanted Dan to leave in the times that he had because he was tired of being alone. So he opened his mouth and mumbled a “Dan?” against his shoulder and the boy replied with a drowsy but almost absent-minded hum. 

“Do you have to go home tonight?” 

“No.” Dan answered in a whisper, his vision still blurred with the tears he didn’t want to spill as the despair tormented his mind. 

Phil was quiet for a moment, focusing on his heart that had increased its rate at his answer. He lifted his head from Dan’s shoulder to look at him, furrowing his eyebrows when he noticed the tears threatening to fall from his waterline but he didn’t mention it. “So then you’ll stay..?” He asked, fearing that Dan would say no anyways. 

“Only if you want me to.” He felt pathetic for being on the verge of crying, when it wasn’t him who’d been bruised that evening. He tried to hold back the tears by looking anywhere but into Phil’s eyes, but with each thought crossing his mind his eyes only filled more and more with the dreading liquid, that two droplets trailed down his skin without even blinking. 

“I-” Phil paused, not sure if him feeling distressed towards Dan’s tears was visible on his face, and as much as he wanted to pull Dan into his arms to hold him, he wasn’t sure if he could even do that after what had happened. “I do but-“ He continued, eyebrows still drawn together in concern. “Please, don’t cry.. I’m sorry.” His volume was lower than his last sentence, and just like how he felt the need to apologize, he also found his own hand squeezing Dan’s because maybe he couldn’t give him such a great amount of comfort currently, but perhaps just a little was enough. 

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay.“ He croaked as he wiped away the tears with his sleeve, trying to get himself together, trying not to overthink. But he did, the past seconds replayed in his head and his thoughts were drenched in the loathing he not only had for himself, but his longing, his desires, his confusion and his doubt. He wanted to reach through his chest and clutch his heart, prevent if from bleeding out just until he was alone and able to let it out. Let out the sobs caught in his lungs and let it all out on himself, on his skin. 

He wanted to leave as much as he wanted to stay right there with Phil, because he feared it being the last time. He feared going home and never coming back, as his mind tried to convince him that it would be better that way. If he stayed away from the feelings that flourished in his chest whenever he was close to Phil. If he just stayed away from the pain it all would cause and _fuck_ , he couldn’t keep himself from thinking that Phil had only pulled away because he didn’t want it to happen. He didn’t want it to happen without equally desiring it as much as Dan did.   

Yet Phil couldn’t help but feel bad, even if Dan said it was okay because he knew it wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t. How could it be anyways? They had gotten so close, maybe too close for people who have known each other for such a small amount of time, and it all happened too fast, not to mention it wasn’t expected. 

With every touch, he fell harder that he wanted to stop touching, and every memory wanted to make him catch himself before he finally hit the ground that he wanted to stop remembering because it just simply hurt to think about. But it hurt in a way that made you want more, acting as if it were a drug, but it also hurt in way that would want to make you cry for hours until your entire body was drained. 

Though now wasn’t exactly the right time to go into detail. He was exhausted, and was using everything in him to attempt to keep himself awake.

“Do you want to change into something more comfortable, maybe?” He then asked, tilting his head a little as he gazed carefully into Dan’s eyes on the lookout for a change in them. 

But all Dan wanted was a second to think clearly and a second to process the past minutes. So he pulled his hand out of Phil’s and got off the bed to escape the boy’s eyes.

“It’s fine, I can sleep in this.“ He said as he looked down himself, still wearing his jeans and a hoodie, not even considering to take anything that even vaguely smelled like Phil. He just wanted to sleep and forget about all the things that wrenched his heart, even if it was just for a few hours.

“I-I’m just gonna sleep on the couch.“ He crossed his arms in front of his chest, gripping his upper arm as he stared down at Phil still sitting in the same position, before he turned around and walked over to the sofa on the other side of the dim lit room. 

Phil’s eyebrows drew closer to each other, but he nodded anyways, ending up with his head hanging low as he stared at his fingers while he fumbled with them, not sure how to currently feel anymore. 

Before he went to lie down, he handed Dan a spare blanket with the sofa already having a pillow previously. And once they said their respective “goodnight”’s, then arrived the overthinking. He began attempting to sleep on his side, but as soon as the thoughts were too much and he felt as if his mind was going to explode, he’d flip over onto his stomach. The temperature altered from hot to cold every couple of minutes, that Phil ended up with the blanket awkwardly wrapped around his legs which made it feel heavier than it was supposed to. The bed creaked with every toss and turn and annoyed waving of his arm when it got caught in between the sheets. 

Finally, after several, several minutes and after frustration became the only focus because at this point he really only wanted to sleep, he sat up straight in a slight jolt, crossing his legs together, and let out a long sigh, putting his face in his hands as he tried to calm down what was going through his head just temporarily if he could at least. 

And Dan’s eyes fluttered open at the sound, because as tired as he was he couldn’t mute his thoughts either. As much as he wanted to drown in a dreamless sleep, he was lying there motionlessly, his mind a huddle of pain and longing. His fingers wrapped around his upper arms, digging in deeper into the fabric with each thought. He wanted to leave and walk aimlessly through the dark streets until his urge to bring a bottle up to his lips would drag him home. 

But he couldn’t leave and he couldn’t ignore the sigh that had left Phil’s lips, so he sat up as well and whispered “What’s wrong?“ into the darkness of the room, unsure of how many minutes had passed since the light got turned off.

There was a small frown remaining on his face when Phil turned to look at Dan. He shook his head and sighed once more. “I-I don’t know.” He replied and there was a couple moments of silence between them. Maybe what he was about to do wasn’t at the right time, but being sleep deprived changed his decisions. “Dan?” He said, and the other boy looked at him curiously with a tilt of his head. “Can you- Can you come here?” 

There was a moment of hesitation before Dan stood up and walked over to the bed. He couldn’t resist, even if he’d begged for the cold november air to encase him instead of Phil’s warmth, when he slipped under the lifted up blanket.   
  
It wasn’t the discomfort of the situation that made Dan move to the edge of the soft mattress. It was the still remaining comfort and the lasting urge to turn around and pull Phil a little closer, even though he knew how impossible that was after what had happened. And it ached inside him.   
  
It made him wish to have the nerves to take a gun and hold the cold metal against his temple, pulling the trigger and shooting away the pain. Make the consequences of going too far disappear, erase his spoken words and replace them with less destructive ones. Because how could he bear another day when everything seemed to break under his fingertips, no matter how carefully he approached.   
  
He was tired of ruining everything, tired of shattering friendships and tired of breaking down whenever it happened. He always knew it would, but somehow he never got used to it. Used to being incapable of keeping something good, used to the devastation and the despair.   
  
Phil didn’t dare to even face Dan however, therefore keeping their backs pressed together in the average sized bed. But the tossing and turning was less, and the creaking was no longer to be heard. What remained was the silent urge to hold each other, to be normal in a world where they never could be. To be able to wake up in the morning and make breakfast downstairs without having to fear those who lurked around the halls resulting in a quick haul of whatever you could find before you sprinted back upstairs.   
  
He wondered what Dan must’ve been thinking currently, heat spreading throughout their backs at the touch of one another, the touch that they both wanted off but kept at the same time.   
  
What would he be thinking of Phil when he leaned in and let their noses brush against each other, or when Phil’s lips grazed the part right beside his mouth. What would he be thinking of Phil when even after everything that went down that could jeopardize whatever they had, he still asked of Dan to sleep beside him.   
  
It was a battle of regret and being glad he did what he did. But newsletters of war predicted that the battle would be won by regret, and Phil agreed.   
  
Because by Phil holding Dan, and Dan holding Phil, something between them grew from their chests. Vines of roses with prickly thorns flourished from the lungs, stabbing every inch of skin and letting it bleed till the day came to yet another end. And as they tried to stitch up each other’s wounds, every attempt and touch would rip their skin further, and the plant would grow larger.   
  
And Phil wondered if that plant would grow maybe too large, and end up killing them both in the arms of each other with the simple intentions of wanting to help.   
  
His eyes fell heavy as they fluttered shut, mind reading him a bedtime story of his own thoughts before he was put to sleep, leaving the consciousness of a world where two boys slept beside each other and the feeling of fear in the room engulfed by nothing but darkness behind.   



	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloo! Sorry for the v late upload, but we're here now!  
> Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it!  
> Hope you enjoy the chapter because we sure did :')

“For fucks sake” was the first thing that escaped Dan’s lips in the morning, when his eyes fluttered open and immediately widened as they caught sight of Phil’s face just inches away from his own. And he didn’t just fall off the small bed because of the missing distance that should’ve been between the two, but also because he forgot where he’d spent hours trying to sort his mind instead of sleeping.

For a few seconds Dan just sat on the floor he’d collapsed on with a loud thud, startled as he remembered where he was and how he must’ve turned in his sleep, before a sleepy “what happened?” made him chuckle with realization.

“I guess I just rolled off the mattress.” He answered, rubbing his elbow as his eyes met Phil’s, which looked down on him from the bed.

“Are you okay?” The concern in the black haired boy’s voice was vague behind the mischievous smile that faintly tugged on his lips and the obvious urge to go right back to sleep, so Dan just got off the wooden floor and mumbled a little “Yeah yeah”, before sitting back down next to him. 

“Sorry for waking you up.” He added as Phil laid down again, his head propped on his elbow. Phil looked like he hadn’t really slept either, the circles under his eyes not even close to the shade of the dark lilac bruises but still a contrast to his pale skin. “It’s okay.” He slurred back drowsily as he pulled the covers up to his face and closed his eyes. And Dan wondered if he would actually fall asleep or just dive into his thoughts until the sun rose high enough to be considered an awakening call. 

Because as much as Dan would’ve loved to just return to his intermittent sleep, waking up every once in a while just to find out that the source of the warmth was not only the thick hoodie he wore, but the boy he’d almost kissed the evening before, he couldn’t. 

A constant game of _would you rather_ played in his mind and even though he’d chosen to not participate, he could still hear the questions daring him to choose.  

_Would you rather leave Phil and die of loneliness or stay and face whatever the morning has in stock?_  

_Would you rather ignore the feeling that pulls you closer to him and turn completely numb or get rejected and cry until you can’t breathe?_  

As much as he wanted to pass each and every query that was more of a substantial decision than sole amusement, he couldn’t because Phil was right there next to him, the urging feeling and the awaiting morning pressing on his chest like a wave pulling him underwater.

_And would you rather suffocate or drown?_

He pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapped his arms tightly around them and tilted his head to rest it on his knees. Phil’s quiff was just as messy as it was the day before and his face was still the same as it was the day they met, but it felt different to look at.

His hair pleaded for a hand to comb through the black strands and his face for eyes to admire the beauty. The beauty of parted lips and ocean blue, of freckles and soft skin. And Dan couldn’t help but look away, because Phil’s beauty didn’t beg for him. 

Not for him and his broken heart, strained by trauma and shattered by himself, not for his empty eyes that only glistened because of the tears that glazed them at all time. 

Dan knew Phil didn’t want him. He leaned in and he brushed his lips against Dan’s skin but he also pulled away. He pulled away and he asked what they were doing, because _god_ what they were doing was wrong. Not only wrong for two desperate teens, with nothing but suicide on their minds until they met the other, but for two boys. For boys with homophobic parents and homophobic classmates, making homophobic comments and making two boys internalize what would rip them apart.

And Dan dug his fingers deeper into his skin with each thought about Phil and edged further away from the sleeping boy with the increasing urge to get closer. He wanted to leave and escape the questions for tormenting him, escape his mind for sucking the air out of his lungs and escape Phil for being so fucking beautiful. For being warm, for caring and for pulling away. 

Dan wanted to yell at Phil for being a little good in hell and being hell himself, for being hope as much as fucking despair, for giving hope and taking it back. For being his salvation and his torment. 

He didn’t dare to cry, because he feared Phil’s comfort, even though he was asleep. He wanted to ignore whatever tried to drag him to the ground of the ocean, whether it was love or not. And he feared it being love because what if it would attach him to the world, even though it was unrequited and wrong. Because all Dan knew was that you’d do anything for a loved one and Phil wanted was him to stay.

After a while of just looking at some spot on the wall, Dan loosened the grip around his legs and stood up, trying to make as little sound as possible. He was tired, maybe even too tired to actually fall asleep. So he walked over into the bathroom and turned on the tap. 

The cold water gushed out of the faucet and he cupped it in his hands just to splash it into his face right after, damping his curls, sticking them to his forehead and causing droplets to trail down his neck. He met his reflection in the mirror and as much as he wanted himself to look awful, to insult himself and comment on how ugly his features were, he could barely recognize himself. All he could see was emptiness and exhaustion.

Because he was still somewhere else. Still in the bathroom but with Phil, with a cloth in his hands and blood staining the fabric. With a feeling in his chest that deflated his lungs but didn’t urge bullets to pierce his head, not then. Not knowing what was about to come, almost relishing to be that close to Phil, to be able to wipe away his tears and soothe the pain in his eyes just a little.

Now there was pain everywhere. Pain that couldn’t be soothed because Dan had ruined it. Ruined the comfort, ruined the warmth just by pulling a little on the threat between them. What was barely a friendship was now nothing but the urge to make it less and make it more than that. Something that dared them to be close, dared them to take another step and endure the outcome. 

And Dan couldn’t trust himself anymore, couldn’t even identify the hollow shell in the mirror as himself as he would’ve never thought that he would want to kiss another boy. To pull on Phil’s shirt and beg him to come closer. He couldn’t trust the despair that filled his heart and he just wanted to splash more water into his face until the agonizing urge would pour down the drain. 

But he could still feel Phil’s lips graze the corner of his, could feel the fabric of his shirt between his fingers instead of brass as he turned off the tap. He still gave himself ultimatums and he still couldn’t choose because there was only pain on the line.

And when he left the bathroom he just wanted to give in, to ruin everything again, to get rejected and let his heart bleed once more, because the sun had risen high enough to be seen as a wakening call, but all Dan could realize was that Phil Lester was fucking beautiful.

Phil could hear the faint shuffling as Dan moved about the bathroom, the water running as it made contact with his fingers and splashed against the sink, and the light footsteps that made their way back into the room. That wasn’t what woke him up however. In fact, he never really slept after Dan had fallen onto the floor.   
  
His eyes remained closed for a couple more seconds, not wanting to be engulfed by the morning light that he could feel from behind his eyelids. The smell of Dan was faint, but there against his nose as he found himself burying his face into the pillow that Dan seemed to be sleeping on. The subtle scent of his shampoo that had a hint of oudh from the Southeast Asian Agar tree would’ve normally made him feel sick at such an early time, where uneasiness struck at the fear from the thought of the upcoming day and what it would offer. But he only found himself pressing his face further into the soft fabric, feeling his nose squish at the pressure until it gotten to the point where he couldn’t breathe. And normally that would’ve been uncomfortable, but it only brought him the exact opposite of that.   
  
Though he couldn’t stay hugging the pillow Dan slept on for days, even though he wanted to, still knowing that the soothing fragrance would eventually fade away, and he had to open his eyes.   
And so he did, but everything was so annoyingly blurry, which is when he realised that his glasses had probably fallen underneath his bed. So an exhausted body let out a long sigh as he flipped and rolled over to his side of the bed, before lazily reaching to the floor to pick up the glasses that thankfully didn’t scratch. He didn’t even remember how they got there, when, or why, but that didn’t really matter.   
  
He sat up straight, the cover falling from his chest and onto his lap and yet another sigh escaped him. It was as if he never slept, and he couldn’t tell whether he was tired emotionally, physically, or both anymore. He brought his hand up to his face and rubbed his eyes, letting out a yawn before he covered his mouth as his eyelids felt heavy once they began dropping shut. The glasses found their way to rest against the support from the bridge of his nose, and the world was no longer blurry.   
  
And while he indolently ran his fingers through his hair, combing it into a much neater structure, Dan was no longer blurry as well.   
  
Though seeing Dan did startle him a little in the vulnerable state of his tired mind, he managed a small smile at the corner of his lips, lightening up his own drained expression, and his hand moved about in a small wave.   
  
“Hello.” He said, his voice raspy from the sore throat and sleep that fought his mind. His cognition was a mixture of Dan and wanting to pass out there and then, and his memory was still hazy from the day before.

As he made the mistake of attempting to regain what he most likely purposefully forgot, a specific scene placed itself in his head, and an immediate blush spread across his cheeks causing him to quickly turn away to hang his head low as he stared at the blanket below him.   
  
Thoughts after the other, and memory after memory came crashing in his head, and it was a bit too overwhelming for the fact that the sun had only just risen a couple minutes ago, and the birds had only chirped just a few times. And in parallel to what went on in his head, as he went over what caused what and who did what, an “Are you okay?” was what Phil managed to say in his foggy state of mind that somehow induced a slight panic but he showed none at all, despite being able to maintain eye contact with Dan for no longer than a minute.   
  
He was calm, compared to himself last night as gut-wrenching sobs escaped him. And maybe calm was good, but maybe this was just the eye of the hurricane before he’d fall right back into it and endure the damage it would later on continue to cause. 

And Dan himself looked so god-damned pretty, standing in front of the bathroom door as Phil recalled how he looked before he averted his eyes. Despite the bags underneath his dark eyes, and the clear exhaustion that accompanied his expression, he was nothing but gorgeous. Dan was gorgeous and it was possible that additional bruises would form to simply only the thought without having the words being said, because putting such an idea in his mind would already be terrible enough.

It had become a melting-pot of not caring and caring, not caring for the Cimmerian hues on his skin put for unwanted display, but at the same time only wanting to tear his face off to paint the skin back to a shade of white, with rosy tinges that glowed in the sunlight. 

But Dan had already seen him at his worst, so then seeing him now would be no different. So through inexistent bravery, he dared to lock his eyes once more with the boy who slept overnight, and it was almost instantly that Phil felt heat creep up the back of his neck, though he tried with all his might to ignore it because now wasn’t the time at all. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” Dan parted his lips for a few seconds to let the words roll off his tongue as genuine as he could, just to let his teeth grind over his bottom lip right after. Because as much as he tried to look away and suddenly find interest in a spot on the wall, his eyes met Phil’s and they didn’t seem to part any time soon. 

He’d never seen Phil with glasses before and even if he had, he couldn’t recall the image in his mind. The thick, black rims hid the darkness under his eyes, but Dan could still tell that he hadn’t slept much either. His hair was just a ruffled mess by now, only hinting that it was once in a perfectly formed quiff and every individual strand that stuck out in the slightest bit seemed to plead for Dan’s fingers to put it back in place. 

He looked beautiful, even though he shouldn’t. Not when bruises in various hues flawed his skin and scars gleamed where he’d given in under the pressure of the day. He shouldn’t look beautiful when he was drained and deprived from sleep, tired both physically and mentally to the point of his eyes almost begging for Dan to join him in the bed and spend the morning in the drowsy warmth. 

Phil looked so beautiful even though his life was speckled with ugliness and soaked in the blood his veins couldn’t hold. Ugly in all the ways Dan considered himself to be, but so undeniably far from it that he was addictive to look at. 

Because as long as his eyes were locked with Phil’s he could barely hear the thoughts that had kept him awake at night, the pain that accompanied him at all time and it was almost like a drag on a cigarette, killing but so _fucking_ calming.  

And Dan wanted to cast his eyes on the ceiling, on the walls that locked them in the faintly sun floated room or just anything but Phil’s lips that moved so gracefully when they parted and spoke. Making them so painfully kissable, so enchanting that every pronounced word seemed just as beautiful, even if it’s connotation beguiled Dan’s toxic mind. 

“You probably want to leave soon, but you’ll have to wait until my parents leave, sorry.” 

All the silent begs that Dan had tried to ignore, suddenly drowned in the euphonised plea for him to leave. In the delay of it that seemed to bother Phil, that every wish of Dan to stay a little longer that had left his lips so dreadfully turned into lies. 

Lies that had no value, that meant nothing and solely indicated that staying had no necessity anymore. Truths that encased Dan like november air in a room that offered so much warmth, with words that had left lips that used to promise so much familiarity and good. 

Even if it was just Dan’s mind that painted the spoken black and interpreted more than it should, it hurt. Because Dan stood in the middle of the room and all of a sudden there was nowhere to go. As much as he didn’t want to lay down next to Phil, he did and he wanted to feel comfort where he shouldn’t. 

He felt lost even though he wasn’t and he’d feel more welcomed in all those cold streets he wished to walk through right now, instead of being trapped in a boy’s room who didn’t want his company. 

Phil had pulled away and he wanted him to leave and now they were strangers locking eyes in the halls of a school they wanted to escape. Strangers that didn’t share anything but a few classes and had never saved the other. That had never slept in the staircase of a broken home or almost kissed on a tear soaked bed.

“Okay.” Dan didn’t tremble when he answered, his eyes didn’t well with tears and his fingers didn’t dig deeper into his skin, because Phil had only said out loud what his thoughts had yelled ever since they met.   

As soon as Phil’s parents would leave, Dan would too and he would question why he’d stayed in the first place. Why he didn’t just say no, why he didn’t find an excuse which would’ve spared them getting close and overstepping a boundary. A boundary that was so desperately needed as it held back those straining feelings that now crumbled in Dan’s chest without ever fully turning into dust.

He hadn’t expected anything, he knew it would come and he’d waited for it all night but somewhere hidden in the hollowness of his mind was a whit of hope, longing for another lie and wishing for Phil to feel whatever Dan did. But Dan didn’t even know what that feeling was before it began to torture him. He begged for it to vanish just as quick as it had appeared and let go as fast as it had ahold of him.

It was pathetic and he just wanted to laugh at himself, to burst into bitter laughter and cry all at once because how could simple words raise such agony. He’d endured years of his mother drinking and letting it out on him, years of bullying and loneliness, of depression and pain. He’d beared years of being on the verge of killing himself, always finding some stupid reason to live a little longer.

But now Phil wanted him to leave and not even having to stay could equal the pain that bloomed where the words had torn his heart. 

And the silence that had grown between them was not of a comfortable one. It wasn’t the silence filled with fingers wrapped around fabric as shaky breaths mingled with one another, lips desiring the touch of the other pair as thoughts were muffled but so very clear. It was the silence where they were far apart rather than inches away. Where words were monotonous rather than filled with emotion, and when emotion was absent rather than there.   
  
The two stared at one another, and Phil waited for something to happen. “Something” because saying he was waiting for Dan to come and lie down next to him so he could feel the warmth once more wasn’t what should be said at a time like this.   
Though what exactly was a time like this?   
The fact that it was barely six o’clock in the morning? Or the fact that two boys who have only known each other for 5 days unsurprisingly began to drift apart somehow for some unknown reason?   
  
But to that he hoped it was just another negative feeling of his. That it was his mind telling him what he believed rather than what was actually there. Because that’s how it’s always been, really. To push people away unknowingly with your overwhelming negativity, or that people leave on their own. Maybe Dan was leaving on his own then. Though that was just what he only supposed, and he begged it to not be a reality because it wasn’t one he wanted to live in.   
  
Phil cleared his throat and broke the eye contact they’d been holding so that he could reach for underneath his bed. The bruises that he accidentally applied pressure to as he leaned onto his side screamed with pain, and he wanted to let out a cry but he only harshly bit his lip before pulling out a bag that seemed to contain sweets.  He turned to look back at Dan, who looked like he was about to question what Phil brought out until Phil said, “They’re marshmallows. I know it’s not really a proper breakfast but I can’t exactly leave to get you actual food..So.. Do you want?” He asked, a little smile tugging at his lips as the bag in his grip created a rustling sound.   
  
But Dan shook his head, and the smile on his face was forcefully polite. “No, it’s fine. I’m not really that hungry.” And the reply was still as dry as the atmosphere they sat in.   
  
Phil furrowed his eyebrows once the unpleasant silence had returned, and he tried to ignore how maladroit it had started to become. Though with the same amount of awkwardness was how Dan still remained on his feet, looking as equally as gawky as Phil was, but at the same time there was more towards it.

 

But Phil cut the lack of conversation again because he found it difficult to handle, although perhaps speaking would make the vibe even more off. “You know you can sit down right? You don’t have to stay standing up.” He began, chuckling a little when he finished his sentence. 

“Oh. Right.” Replied Dan in, once again, a very colourless manner before he shuffled his way over to the sofa in the corner of the room causing a frown on Phil’s face but it quickly faded away so it wouldn’t seem as if he was bothered by the fact that Dan didn’t choose to sit beside him. 

Phil looked away and averted his attention to the bag of marshmallows in his lap, and he slowly reached in for one to minimize the chance of it creating a lot of noise, because for some reason he associated the noise coming from a bag of sweets with the increasing feeling of an odd environment. He ended up plopping a marshmallow in his mouth but his eyebrows drew together at the peculiar taste of blood in his mouth that mixed with the payton as he chewed, and he decided that he no longer had the appetite to continue eating. 

To that, he turned back to Dan, because now he had to ask what was up since Dan made no effort to a conversation. And it’s not like they were the type of people to open any topic and go on a rant about it for hours, but they always had something to say. Whether it was verbally said words or those expressed through the gazing into the other’s eyes.  

Though now no words had been said, and Dan’s eyes were too far away for Phil to gaze into even though he was right across from him. 

So he set the bag aside and let out a sigh before he opened his mouth to speak. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Phil asked, tilting his head a little with concern. “You’re being a little.. I don’t know.. Weird and distant?” He continued, and an awkward chuckle accompanied his question because he wasn’t really sure of anything anymore. 

“I am weird? I wasn’t the one who leaned in just to pull away again.” There wasn’t even a hint of hesitation when Dan spoke. Phil didn’t care about how he was feeling, he just wanted him to leave. He was distant, he was weird, he’d torn the thread between and it was his fucking fault that the warmth in Dan’s heart had turned into sheer flames, scorching the thin layer that was broken so easily. 

Phil’s eyes immediately widened at the shock from the words that left Dan’s mouth, and it was as if all the oxygen was sucked out from his throat in just a second due to the sudden bewilderment from the change in Dan’s attitude. He was sure that the heat that had abruptly surged throughout his body had crept its way up to his cheeks, tinting them in a rosy colour as they contrasted the dark purple beside them. “What?!” He exclaimed, both embarrassed in a way and confused while a frown also formed on his expression as he looked at Dan who was practically glaring at him, and it was a look that Phil had never seen from him and certainly did not like. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

Dan wanted to get out of the situation as much as he just wanted to yell, let out the raging pain that hissed through his body like deathly poison. He wanted to swallow his retorts and fake another smile, but a line of gunpowder had been set on fire, slowly burning it’s way up to where the pain of the evening dwelled. “It has to do with everything! You have to do with everything!“ He knew he could apologize before he made it worse, but there was just too much in his head, too many questions and too much frustration to suppress. His words crashed out unchecked, unfiltered, even though his conscience urged him to stay silent. “We’ve known each other for less than a week so stop acting like you would fucking care!“ 

Phil was left speechless for a couple of moments, his words reaching the tip of his tongue but fading away almost as fast as they had appeared. Out of everything that went through his head, he couldn’t help but ask why this was happening. Though he wasn’t surprised. He had hoped too much and he had wished too much and it was only a matter of time for it to all backfire against him, and that time was no more than a week, as it wasn’t even a week in the first place but less.   
But despite all that, despite seeing the only good thing crumble before him, he knew he couldn’t sit there and accept what Dan was saying, because it was wrong. It was wrong because Phil not only cared about Dan, but he cared way too much. “I do care! Calm down for a second-” 

“No! Shut up!“ He wished he could just calm down but every time Phil opened his mouth Dan just seemed to get angrier, fueling the fire that burnt inside him like gasoline. Because with every inhale he breathed in Phil’s scent again, felt his lips brush the corner of his lips and his fingers twist the fabric of his sweater. It was a memory and it was engraved into his brain and if he could he would erased it, just to be able to look into Phil’s eyes without remembering how they closed when only inches kept their faces apart. 

But he couldn’t and he couldn’t calm down, not even for a sole second. He wanted tears to float his eyes instead of a churning hunger for destruction that boiled deep in his system. He begged himself to not ruin another thing, but how could he ruin something that was already shattered on the floor. And even if he would regret this, regret it to the point of lying in bed wide awake with glistening traits on his skin and a dry throat from silently apologizing to the void his eyes were trapped in, in those seconds of pure anger he thought that Phil deserved it. Deserved to feel just a hint of the pain he’d left Dan with. “You don’t even like me!“ 

It was then at the last word that came out of Dan’s mouth when the familiar sound appeared repeatedly against the door, and the livid voice of his father accompanied it.   
  
“Phil, who are you talking to?! Open this door right now!”   
  
Phil’s head snapped towards the other source of anger and he jolted up from the bed as anxiety substituted the blood in his veins, and he could’ve sworn that his heart had begun beating in his throat. But it didn’t, and instead it thumped hard in his chest against his rib cage, and he could almost hear the bones rattle inside of him with every thud. His head pained him as too many voices replaced the questions in his head, and everything began spiralling down a very confusing hole.   
  
Though Phil flinched at the sudden high volume of Dan’s voice, and it was unconscious of him once he wrapped his arms around his body, taking a step back from Dan with caution.   
Because he was afraid. Afraid not because of Dan himself, but because he feared that Dan would end up treating him like his father did maybe accidentally, even though he knew that was really unlikely. He knew Dan would never lay a finger on him if it meant that more wounds would be scattered, but he was just so used to feeling a handprint on his face only seconds after the voice had become too loud in between the walls. Although, he also never thought Dan would be yelling at him, but here they were.   
And Phil wished he could turn back time just a couple hours into the previous day to stop what had ripped the very thin layer of whatever their relationship was.   
  
“D-Don’t shout at me.” Came out of his mouth in a whisper, and he tried not to drop his eyes to the floor the same way he did whenever he interacted with his father. “What’s gotten into you?” He then asked, voice still hushed, as he fought the urge of wanting to come closer to Dan but also wanting to remain as far away from him as possible.

Dan’s eyes stung as if they were being picked with needles as he held back the tears, trying not to show how desperate he was when all he wanted was to be angry. He didn’t want to let Phil see how pathetically much he affected him, how badly he could hurt him with simple words and how easily he could make him cry.  But the rage was nothing but a shield for pain, like a cornered soldier throwing out grenades, scared for his life, desperate and lonely. Trying to protect what had already endured the agony of hope and disappointment, of a bit of good in hell and the destruction of it in deadly fires. What had touched ones lips and been rejected.

And as much as Dan didn’t care about people breaking his heart, he did. He cared about Phil and he hurt when he shouldn’t. When they had only known each other for a few days and it felt like a single touch could burn down his shelter. 

“I don’t have to fucking exist anymore and you want me to leave!“ Dan’s voice sounded more pained than anything and he wished he could blame it on alcohol or his lack of sleep in the past days, but it was solely his dying heart. Dying because it had bled and shattered so often that there couldn’t be anything left but scarlet covered shards and dying because he felt like he was. 

Phil’s eyebrows drew closer together into a frown, and he tried his best to ignore the loud slamming of his father’s fists against the door but it was nearly impossible, and controlling how many times he’d wince at the aggressiveness wasn’t close to being possible as well.   
  
He wanted to scream at Dan to stop and he wanted to break off his father’s hands so he wouldn’t have to hear the repeated noise so much and at this point it had become deafening in his ears. But he couldn’t, and he was so lost. He wanted to stop time for a moment so he could catch up with everything, because everything was in first place while he dragged himself in last, and he needed to be able to find something that he could hook on to in order for him to join the train wreck up front.   
  
He didn’t want Dan to stop existing. That was the last thing he’d ever want. And every time he’d open his mouth to say that, it would just close back, and he’d think of something else to say. He wished he could say whatever whenever, to be able to live in such a free environment. But they sat in a room that’s walls were closing in fast and Phil felt as if he was beginning to suffocate in the only room that was able to give him some sort of comfort.   
  
“I-I don’t want you to leave Dan! Calm down, please!” He tried once more, this time reaching for Dan’s hand even though he knew that wasn’t the best thing to do currently, but his mind always associated Dan with comfort as well as his touch, so it was the only thing he thought to do through the hurricane that flipped and tossed every part of his brain across his skull.  

“Don’t touch me!“ Dan cautioned as he plead for every possible inch between him and Phil. He held his hands in front of his body as he was confined within the threatening warmth of the boy in front of him and the closing in walls he pressed his back against. Trapped between the urge to flee and surrender. Cave in and allow Phil to drown the last bit of sanity that was left with his touch. 

He wanted to curl his hands into fists and punch right through the walls, escape what would only break him further. Dan wanted to scream out of pure despair, because he was torn and lonely and desperate. And he couldn’t bear the damage of Phil’s skin on his own, even if he craved a hug so dearly. 

They were strangers once again and worse. Worse because when they’d never exchanged a word before, they saved the others life and now it seemed like they retracted the favour and killed the other right then and there. 

“I’ve already let you touch me enough so don’t fucking dare to touch me!“ Dan was angry at himself as much as he was at the boy in front of him, because how could Phil wound him so deeply and cut to his very core. How could Dan bleed so heavily from a ruined friendship, when he’d never experienced a stable one in the first place. 

Phil had come to establish that Dan reminded him of snow. Beautiful, but cold. Cold because as much as Dan told him to back off, Phil couldn’t help but come closer because of how much he resembled the white, thick blanket that would cover land, and snow was always so tempting to touch even if he’d have to shield his eyes with his arms at how blinding the ice-white dust was. Beautiful because Dan always matched that adjective, even if he was currently furious at Phil. He was furious _because_ of Phil, and Phil never wanted that to happen. He never wanted to have tears beginning to well in his own eyes because of the boy in front of him, because the boy in front of him was screaming and his words were covered in agony and it was all Phil’s fault.   
  
“I-I’m sorry that I’m making you angry but please stop yelling at me. I’m sorry.” His voice broke at his words, and despite the already existing height difference between them, he felt as if he had completely shrunk in size, and his voice had also become equally as small.   
  
And yet again, he approached the boy whose mind and body were visibly in flames, doused and ignited by Phil himself. “Dan please-“ He almost begged, his eyes painted with sadness.   
  
But no matter how pained Phil began to look, Dan was hurting more. And that resulted in Dan suddenly pushing Phil away once he was close enough, causing Phil to stumble back and almost fall over onto the ground at how unexpectedly aggressive Dan was.   
  
“Hey!” Phil exclaimed, now more annoyed than afraid, and there was no hesitation when he quickly made his way back to Dan who attempted to push him once again making them grab at each other’s arms, one trying to push the boy as far as possible away and the other trying to pull him closer. “Stop, hey!” He repeatedly blurted, and he caught a glimpse of the tears that sat at the edge of Dan’s waterline, immediately feeling bad but there was just too much to deal with. “Dan!” He nearly shouted before managing to pin Dan by his shoulders unintentionally roughly against the wall behind them, panting at the effort he had to make to get ahold of him. 

All Dan could feel was desire; desire to hate when that agonizing feeling surfaced. The feeling that burned like fire lacing his veins and creeping up to his head. Despair mingled with longing for something he couldn’t get and it could be compared to a child throwing a tantrum, but it was much more destructive. 

He wanted to spit out the acid that smoldered his lungs, suffocating him to the point of turning blue. He wanted to screech the words with every ounce of breath that was left in his chest, the words that had deprived him from sleep, made his thoughts spiral deeper into misery and caught him in the anger and the pain. Simple words that drove him to a fury he had never found himself in and only increased the disgust he had for himself when he pushed Phil away.  

Pinned against the wall, Dan brought his hands up once more, just to clutch the fabric of Phil’s shirt, tugging down on it that his pale chest was revealed a little. As much as he could only see red, he saw the blue of Phil’s eyes through his blurry vision. Eyes that welled with fear and panic. 

Dan wanted to laugh because once again they found themselves in the same situation they were in the evening before, but this time filled with a desperate loathing for the flourishing feelings in his chest. His rage held the power of a wildfire, ready to ignite anything he would touch and even if Dan never fought with his fists, his words packed a powerful punch. A punch he directed more towards himself than Phil.   

“You don’t even like me.“ The anger evaporated from his eyes and dripped down like rain on his skin. “You don’t even fucking like me.” 

“Shut up!” And for the first time that morning, Phil’s voice was purely of anger, and to his yell was when he concurrently squeezed Dan’s shoulders, shaking him a little as well. “Shut up and listen to me!” He continued, staring into Dan’s eyes as his own tears fell before briefly following those that slid down Dan’s cheeks and dripped onto his shirt. “I’m sorry that this is my fault, I know I pulled away, and I’m sorry for even asking you to come over,” He rambled, the grip on Dan’s shoulders unknowingly tightening as he spoke. “But please listen to me. _Please_.” He begged, voice cutting off his words at the intense heartache in his tone.

And Dan did as he was told to do and remained quiet, looking away from Phil from not being able to lock eyes with him because it was simply too painful to.   
  
“I know I’ve only known you for five days, but I guess that it’s enough for _me_ to know how I feel about you, not for you to tell me how I feel about you-” Phil began before he was interrupted by Dan who had been shivering in his grip.   
  
“You don’t like me!-“   
  
“No! I do like you! I like you a whole lot more than I ever expected myself to!”   
  
But then their eyes locked once more at Phil’s quivering words, and things had become quieter than they were a couple minutes ago. Perhaps maybe even too quiet, because neither of them could hear what was being said, but somehow they both were aware of it. The words were muffled in both of their ears, and they were so clear but at the same time not as much. But Phil counted on the fact that his brain cooperated with his mouth for once, and what he wanted to say was being said rather than the complete opposite, and Dan simply listened.   
  
“If you were the last thing I ever had, you would still be enough. In fact, _you are_ the only thing I have!”   
  
And the frown on Dan’s face was no longer present too.   
  
Phil took a deep breath, feeling his head spin as the words blurted themselves from his mouth. So much in so little time, and there was no thought to his words whatsoever. But he felt angry. Angry at his father for forcing Phil to be in his room every single day because he was too afraid to face him, angry at himself for saying words he meant so much but shouldn’t have been said, and angry at Dan for trying to push him away and assuming how Phil felt towards him.   
A deep breath. Calm. Reserved and collected.   
  
“So you can’t tell me that I don’t like you, Dan, you can’t because it isn’t true.”   
  
It wasn’t true because 120 hours was enough for Phil’s heart to control his head, for emotion to overpower reason. Because Phil preferred to love someone rather than to be alone, though he knew that loving someone would result in being alone one day because nothing was guaranteed. Because even the strongest love can shatter, break into a thousand pieces and bleed from behind wooden doors.   
But he wanted to love someone, that’s all he would ask for. He wanted to laugh with someone even though he knew one day there’d be no laughter, and he wanted to have a shoulder to cry on even though he knew one day that shoulder would be gone.   
And maybe that was okay.   
  
So emotion took the wheel upfront and began to drive once more.   
  
“And you know what? I even regret not kissing you yesterday because if I could go back and do that I would.”   
  
But then there was no response from Dan. None at all. The sound of two beating hearts and shaky breaths was so faint in the room, but so prominent as well.   
  
It hurt to wait. He didn’t want to wait anymore. He needed a reply. Something. Even if it was Dan leaving the room, even if it was Dan pushing him again or maybe even if it was Dan telling him how much he hated him. Just something so Phil could have an answer to his growing regret.   
  
“Dan?” He called out, voice quiet as his grip on the boy in front of him loosened, and maybe now was when he had become completely lost. 

Dan wanted to answer. Tell Phil that he was wrong, because how could he like him. How could Dan be enough, when all he was was a wreck slowly fading away. 

But with every passing second and every word that escaped Phil’s lips, water started to fill his lungs as he gasped for air, the surface just inches away but too far to reach. His hands lashed out, trying to break the thin ice above, but a weight dragged him down as his body became tired. He was exhausted, drained from the raging fire that had died out the second salty tears spilled from his eyes. He wanted to push Phil away, Phil and his fucking ability to tear Dan’s heart into pieces. He wanted to escape what dragged him down like oceans currents, but he was so tired and maybe it was okay. 

Maybe they weren't strangers anymore, just Dan and Phil.

Just two broken boys, with broken families and broken hearts. Two boys with lives as cold as winter and memories as dark as november nights. Two boys who couldn't escape their bodies, but found comfort in the arms of another.

And maybe suffocating was worse than drowning and maybe it was the exact same thing. 

More tears trailed down Dan’s cheeks as his lower lip got caught between his teeth. His mind was torn and it was a cruelty of life to keep his heart beating even after it had been broken and shattered. 

It wasn't right, it wasn't what society had taught him in movies and books.

It was against religion, against what his grandma used to teach him about, his classmates, when they used it as a slur.

It was against his own will and still so desired.

But if he could kill himself, he could also fall in love.

And maybe he would.

Maybe he was. 

And maybe he was only pulling Phil close to push him away a second later. Dan wanted to close the distance with another tug on his shirt, with just a little more, but his heart ached. It ached equally with longing and pain and as much as he wanted he couldn’t. He couldn’t once again and he cursed his mind for being so scared. 

So fucking scared of rejection, of giving in into the feelings that made his blood feel like tar as his heart struggled to keep a steady beat. They would never be able to go back to being strangers, not after a few more inches and Dan couldn’t decide whether it was all he desired or despised. 

“Phil.“ He pleaded, his voice shaky as he kept it low, begging the boy in front of him for help. Begging for him to decide for him, to pull away or come just a little bit closer. To stitch Dan’s heart back together or tear the last strings. 

He didn’t know what would happen, he didn’t know what he wanted to happen, but all Dan could think of was what Phil’s breath on his skin felt like and that he wanted more of it. More of the ocean breeze and a few more inches. And he twisted the thin fabric between his fingers, paralyzed and unable to pull Phil closer. 

God, it was so easy, maybe too easy. Too effortless for something that could just shatter both of their shields and open the fire. But Dan couldn’t wait, couldn’t escape, couldn’t decide. He urged his thoughts to scream, to yell, to prevent him from parting his lips, but it was deadly silent. 

“Kiss me.“ 

Phil’s stomach tied itself into a knot at Dan’s request, and for a moment, he was unsure of what to do. Though at the same time, it was all he wanted to do.

He wanted to feel Dan’s lips on his own, to see if the cigarettes from the night before stained them and to see if the alcohol from a couple days ago had seeped into them. He wanted to see what the consequences were out of curiosity and fear. Wanted to see if Phil granting Dan’s wish would result in whatever they had to vanish into the tense atmosphere, or maybe it would only enhance it. 

Because Phil knew how he felt towards Dan, and it was a feeling he never thought he’d be able to experience because Phil was Phil, so why would he? 

But there sat the boy in from of him, desperate for Phil’s touch as much as Phil was desperate for Dan’s, telling him to kiss him because that was maybe the only thing that could be done so that they could save each other and what had flourished. 

Phil wanted to love someone, and he wanted to laugh and cry with someone. So maybe that someone could be Dan. He needed it to be Dan because Dan was who he _needed_. The only person who made him feel angry, but not because of hate, but because of affection, and that was different and weird. Because anger in Phil’s life was never out of the care for someone. It was only fueled because of how much he despised his parents, how much his parents despised him and how much he despised himself.  

For once, he didn’t have to hate someone. Only love. And that was okay. 

So he was going to grant Dan’s wish, because it was what they both wanted, despite that it could ruin them. But he wanted to stop thinking about the future for just a moment, just so he could try to enjoy something. So he wouldn’t have to overthink it and pull away only to result in almost having Dan tell him that he hated him, or for Dan to push him away. 

It was hopeless but so were they, and maybe that’s why Phil was able to close in the distance between them, leaning in closer, their foreheads touching and the tip of their noses brushing like the night before and their breaths faltering in the same way. He knew he couldn’t fight against the thoughts that were going through him, and _god_ , he didn’t even want to do that. 

Dan’s very smell began to flood his senses, and it was intoxicating but in a good way, the less painful way. His hands made their way up from Dan’s shoulders only to gently cup his face, and he saw how Dan’s eyes fluttered shut and how his mouth parted slightly, silently imploring to be touched, as Phil’s lips grazed against his. And as Phil’s own eyes fell closed, their lips connected together into a compassionate kiss, developing from feelings that bloomed over five days, and they flowered intensely. 

He felt the grip from Dan’s hand on his shirt loosen before having Dan’s arms slither around his neck, closing in whatever distance was left and allowing their bodies to be pressed up against one another as Dan’s fingers on one of his hands tangled themselves in Phil’s hair. The tears that stained Dan’s cheeks imprinted themselves on Phil’s skin, and Phil could taste the saltiness of them as well as the cigarettes from last night and the faint taste of liquor as well. But it was nothing but comforting, and he didn’t mind the taste against his lips at all. He would almost describe it as a drug even, the kind that you’d get addicted to from the first time and only be left with wanting more.

And at that moment he didn’t care about what shouldn’t be done. He didn’t care about what was wrong and what was right. He didn’t care about his father who was most likely fuming behind his bedroom door. Didn’t care that he had to be out of the house by the end of tomorrow, and he didn’t care that his face was still disastrous. 

He only cared about Dan. He cared about the slightly chapped lips that intertwined with his, and about the soft curls that skimmed against his own skin. He cared about the brown eyes behind the closed eyelids that resembled pools of honey in the early morning sunlight, and he cared about the voice that escaped his lips whether it was dry with anger or full of sadness.

That was who he cared about, and he cared about him more than he ever cared for himself or for the world around him. 

Sometimes you find yourself lost until someone comes to pick you off your feet so you can find your way home. 

And maybe Phil hadn’t found his home yet, the place that would be decorated with furniture and items that didn’t necessarily have to have a certain important meaning, but home meant feeling safe and feeling comfort too. Home meant not having to sprint into your room and locking the bedroom door as soon as you leapt into it. 

So maybe Dan was snow, but maybe he could be that home as well. 

And when Dan pulled away a few inches, just enough for their lips to disconnect and their foreheads to touch, he wanted to smile. Wanted his lips to curl into an act of happiness, because whatever he was feeling in that moment, was more than he had in years. Maybe it wasn’t sheer happiness when he was still broken inside, but it was good and it tugged on the corners of his lips before they parted once again. 

Because as much as he just wanted to forget his pain, thoughts and despair in those seconds of security and comfort, he couldn’t help but feel a little shocked. Shocked because within minutes he went from frustrated, to angry, to desperate, to in love. From pushing Phil away, to pulling him closer, to kissing him. And he was still confused, because something in him was unsure and something was a little too certain about what he felt.

Dan could feel Phil’s fingers on his skin, his breath on his lips and warmth spreading through his body, tinting his cheeks in a rosy shade. But he couldn’t feel the fear of rejection that had tormented his mind or his heart, dying due to words that had left Phil’s lips and fueled a raging fire like gasoline, churning in Dan’s veins. A fire he couldn’t feel either as it had ignited the second tears dripped from his eyes. But the damage was done, the despair let out on the singular person Dan cared about and he couldn’t help but feel stupid. 

Stupid because suddenly everything that seemed so impossible wasn’t anymore. Stupid because how could he yell at Phil, how could he push him away and it was a hushed “sorry” that escaped his parted lips, when he leaned back to look into Phil’s eyes. 

“Don’t apologize, it’s-” The boy in front of him began, eyebrows drawn together and gaze trailing up and down. 

“No not for this, for yelling at you, for pushing you away. I didn’t mean to hurt you”, Dan stammered, truly meaning what he said as he’d never expected himself to get so aggressive. He knew that he had some kind of anger problem as he easily got in rage, but he’d never acted out like that. 

Phil tilted his head, his hands still on Dan’s shoulders. “I-You didn’t hurt me. It was my fault anyways.. for pulling away yesterday and giving you mixed feelings, so I deserved it.” 

“No, you didn’t deserve it. I shouldn’t have done-“ Dan began, just to be interrupted. 

“Dan, it’s fine, honestly. I’m not upset with you, okay?” A sweet but vaguely shy smile spread across the black haired boy’s face. 

A smile that made Dan’s lips twitch, but not enough to be returned or ease his guilt. “But-” 

“I’m serious. It’s alright. Plus, I don’t think I would’ve kissed you if I was mad at you, so that’s proof enough.” The chuckles that accompanied Phil’s words as he spoke were just as sweet and lovable as they pierced through the dark thoughts in Dan’s mind. “So, relax, okay?”

And if it wasn’t for those words, for the way it sounded when “kiss” and “you” escaped Phil’s lips in the same sentence, Dan wouldn’t have given in so easily. “Okay.” He surrendered to the boy in front of him and the irresistible impulse to smile. 

“Can I kiss you again then?” The curve to his lips was almost provocant as it revealed a dimple on each side and Dan felt stupid for his attempt to be flirty. 

“God, no!” Phil exclaimed with another of those butterfly releasing chuckles as he rolled his eyes. 

So Dan just leaned in until he could feel Phil’s warm lips on his. It was more slow and soft this time as the urgency of a kiss turned into nothing but sheer affection. Affection and faint despair. He rested his hand below his ear, his thumb carefully caressing the unharmed skin of Phil’s cheek while he tried to feel as much comfort and warmth as possible in those void filling seconds. Trying to drown the darkness in naive flashes of hope, because maybe, _now things would change._  

And they did as Phil suddenly pulled away, his head turning to the door that vibrated under a punch against the wood, followed by another yell that had been simply ignored the first time it echoed behind the walls. Forgotten as both got lost in the other, but now, they’d snapped out of it and every acid seeping word that left his dad’s lips, seemed to drag Phil further away from what just happened.

For a second they just stood there, Dan’s eyes on Phil as his eyes widened with panic. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He muttered repeatedly when insults tangled with threats reached his startled mind. “I- What do I do?” 

“I-I don’t- Just try to calm down, it’s gonna be fine. I’m here so he can’t hurt you.” Dan tried to reassure him as he kept his voice as low as possible, trying not to make the situation any worse. 

“No, no. He’ll hurt you. He’ll hurt me. I- Need to go talk to him or else he’ll break down my door and then we’re both screwed if not just me and I don’t want you to get hurt, Dan. I’d hate myself even more if I let that happen.” 

It wrenched Dan’s heart to hear how much Phil cared about him, when he said that he would take any hit as long as Dan wouldn’t get hurt. And he wished he could just tell Phil now how much that meant to him as nobody had ever protected him from pain. But Dan just shook his head. “I don’t want you to get hurt either.”

“It’s gonna happen anyways at one point, it doesn’t matter.” Phil mumbled as his gaze dropped to the floor. 

“Phil-“

“I need to-“ His eyes darted back up, but Dan didn’t let him finish his sentence, because whatever Phil had to do, he couldn’t let him do it. 

“Just- Let’s sit down so we can think about this, okay?” 

“There’s nothing to think about! He’ll find a way to come in here and we’re both fucked.” Phil’s voice was trembling and with every inhale, the exhale followed faster. 

“You’re overthinking this.” Dan tried to remain a calm tone, because the last thing they needed was another fight or Phil’s dad to acknowledge his presence. 

“You don’t know him like I do, Dan.”

“That’s true but please calm down.” Dan pleaded as he reached for Phil’s hand to hold it gently. “You don’t have to deal with this alone anymore. Let’s just think for a second, yeah?” 

“Okay, okay.” Phil surrendered, following Dan to sit next to him on the bed without taking his eyes off the door that he feared would just shatter like glass under the punches of his dad. 

“Let me talk to him.” He answered before the brown haired boy could open his mouth. But Dan’s following “No” didn’t even need a second of consideration. He wouldn’t let Phil get hurt like he’d been the evening before and all of the past years. Because even if Phil said that he was used to it, when he swore that it didn’t matter, it did and familiar pain still hurts. 

“What if he comes in here then?” 

“We’ll deal with that when he does.” Dan’s eyes were focused on the bruises on Phil’s cheekbone and jaw. There was no way that he would just allow another bruise to appear on the boy’s already so harmed skin. “If I hadn’t yelled at you, I wouldn’t have gotten you in this situation.” 

“I yelled at you as well when I was telling you to shut up so, I think that was louder?” Phil countered, his eyes locking with Dan’s again while the thin wood of his door barely stifled his dad’s words. It was loud and overwhelming and _god_ , did Dan wish he could just drown the clamour in more kisses and more sweet chuckles. 

Phil let himself fall onto the mattress as he covered his face with his hands. “Why can’t he just stop? My head feels like it’s going to explode.” He sighed frustrated and defeated. 

“I don’t know.” Dan muttered, feeling the pity grow when he just wanted Phil to be okay. He wanted his dad to shut up, to stop hurting him when he was already hurting so much. He wanted Phil to get what he deserved, everything good and everything that would make him smile a little more often. And Dan asked himself if he was the opposite of that. 

He watched Phil’s chest rise and fall a couple of times before he laid down next to him, facing the ceiling. It wasn’t fair, he thought. It wasn’t fair of the world to let people fall in love with those who deserved better. To let two broken hearts beat for the other. 

And at the same time he couldn’t be more grateful. Grateful for going to a school where friends turned into enemies. Grateful for rushing down onto the street in the middle of the night after breaking once more into pieces. Grateful for drinking in the morning and grateful for being so unbelievably wrong.  
Dan was wrong for falling in love with boys and wrong for accepting it after years and years of silent knowledge and unspoken denial. Years of being to busy with his own mind, the loathing he had for himself and the world, ignoring every thought that he was taught was wrong. Ignoring every feeling that shouldn’t have occured and every suppressed longing he wasn’t aware of. 

“I’m sorry about my dad.” Phil said after a while, turning his head towards Dan. 

“It’s fine, I’m just worried about you.” Dan didn’t take his eyes off his ceiling as if it was providing him with the answers to his questions. One of them being about Phil, maybe more. 

“You don’t have to be.” 

“I am.” He felt Phil shuffle closer before he flipped over completely to rest his head on Dan’s chest and curl up into his side. Radiating nothing but warmth and the scent of the ocean. 

“It’s gonna be okay.” Dan mumbled, looking down onto the soft black hair he slowly began to untangle with his fingers.

And maybe he’d been aware of it and maybe it had always been okay.


	11. Chapter 11

It hadn’t been too long until Phil’s father had stopped sending loud yells into the walls of the room the pair sat in, leaving with incoherent threats and insolence that they were both aware of the consequences they’d have later, and a final frustrated slam of the fist against the door before footsteps distanced themselves into the hallways. 

The two had been sat together in the same position for the entire time however, cuddled into each other with Dan’s arm around Phil and Phil’s head still on Dan’s chest. Mumbled words left their lips as they made meaningless conversation as a distraction from what was happening, and Phil was ultimately able to let out the breath he’d been holding in when things cleared up. 

And things had been casual, weirdly enough. Familiar panic was less this time as the voices were going on, and Phil was sure it was most likely a mixture of the fact that Dan was with him and that he was used to hearing the words that came out of his dad’s mouth on a constant basis. 

He was thankful that the door didn’t burst open from the chaotic evil that lurked behind it, trailing beneath the low, three centimeter tall gap separating the floor from the door and teasing its way into his room but not fully making its way into it. He couldn’t imagine what would’ve happened if his dad managed to get into his bedroom, spotting Dan and Phil in the way that sat on his bed. He didn’t want to imagine, and so he stopped before his thoughts became too negative too fast. 

It was also at the same time when Phil’s dad left that Dan had stopped running his fingers through Phil’s now more-quiffed-up-than-usual hair, resulting in a couple seconds of realization from Phil before a frown appeared on his face. 

“Why did you stop?” Asked Phil, whispering so that his voice wouldn’t be heard beyond where it should be. 

“Stop what?” Replied Dan, voice equally as low but confused as Phil wasn’t exactly clear about his question, not to mention it was random as they weren’t really speaking at the time. 

Phil paused, thinking to himself and almost laughing at how much he was about to sound like a child, but his mother had stopped running her fingers through his hair years and years ago, and it gave him a sense of comfort in addition to the warmth radiating off of Dan’s cast as well as his slow and steady breathing. “Playing with my hair.”

Dan went quiet for about four seconds before a soft chuckle escaped him. “My fingers got tired, Phil.” He answered, and the smile in his voice was more than audible. “I was petting your hair for like, forty-five minutes.” 

Phil craned his head in order to look up at Dan, making himself feel very uncomfortable physically but currently, there seemed to be a more important matter. “Yeah, well, still.” He pouted and his eyebrows were still drawn together until his gaze fell on the dimple denting Dan’s cheeks, causing a shift of expressions to that of a smile. And without asking, Phil brought his finger up only to poke it into Dan’s dimple repeatedly. 

“What are you doing- Phil-“ 

“It’s cute!” 

“Shut up and lay your head back down properly. It looks like you’re going to crack your neck any second.” Dan said after rolling his eyes fondly, resisting the urge to let out any sort of laugh, whether it was simply a giggle or just a regular chuckle at Phil’s awkward seating. 

Phil huffed before rolling over and away from Dan so that his back was facing him as well. “Fine, don’t pet my hair anymore.” He mumbled, attempting to sound annoyed as his words were not even understandable but the general idea was there. 

Dan tilted his head as he looked at Phil, eyebrow slightly raised in a questionable manner. “How- Your mood is on a rollercoaster today isn’t it?” He jokingly asked with a smirk. 

And it was true. Phil had gone from neutral, to a mixture of angry, annoyed, and afraid, to happy and okay, then down to panicked, and back up to neutral and very much, again, casual. It all happened so fast and it wasn’t even in the afternoon yet, but Phil didn’t mind his current mood. It was better than what he usually felt, which was nothing but pain and hurt as his chest rose and fell along with tears that splattered below him. 

And if being around Dan meant that he wouldn’t have to feel like absolute shit every second, then maybe things wouldn’t have to be so bad anymore, and things would start to be okay. 

Maybe now he could hope and wish as much as he wanted without being afraid that it would slip right from his fingers leaving him with a shattered heart and blood spewed out from his lungs. Maybe now he had a grip on something, a grip on a life if not his own and maybe that was enough to keep him hanging on for just a bit longer. 

He faced Dan once more, this time with a vaguely mischievous smile spread across his face. “Yeah, you’re saying that as if yours has been completely stable.” He fired back with an accompanied giggle, his words attempting to subtly refer both to Dan’s sudden anger as well as the switch to the plead to be kissed. 

But instead of countering, Dan silently sat up and pushed himself up from the bed. Ignoring the confused expression on Phil’s face and holding back the urge to smile as it made his lips twitch.

“What are you doing?” Phil asked, sitting up as well as Dan grabbed his phone that was still laying on the nightstand and the pack of cigarettes next to it.

Dan turned around, facing the black haired boy with his hands in the pouch of his hoodie and he swore that was the moment his acting class had prepared him for. “I’m going home.” He answered blankly. “Unstable mood.” 

Phil rolled his eyes softly and tilted his head while Dan took notice of how often he seemed to do that. “It was just a joke babe.” 

“Babe?” Dan mocked, not even trying to suppress the surprise in his voice. Not only had he never heard anyone call him babe, but it was Phil and it was so oddly out of nowhere that he couldn’t help but laugh. And even though he was amused by it, he added it to the list of words that sounded so  _ goddamn good  _ when they came from Phil and that list was long, as basically everything he said made Dan’s lips curl into a smile.

Even if it was a sappy nickname that usually only couples use and especially when it was. Because they weren’t together and Dan couldn’t help but feel like it was some sort of confirmation, when it really wasn’t.    
“Did you just call me babe?” He repeated when Phil didn’t answer but just shrugged, playing it down like it was nothing. 

“Just come back here.” Phil sighed, a rosy colour once again flushing his cheeks at the awkwardness he’d provoked. He knew that Dan would lose it completely if he said that it just slipped, so he just ignored that the boy in front of him couldn’t get over something so small and grabbed him by his arm to pull him down onto the bed again.  

“My unstable mood did not assent to this.” Dan stated as he fell knees first onto the mattress, trying to keep up his act even though he was still smiling widely. 

“Well maybe it assents to this.” Phil shook his head in disbelief of how playful Dan could be when they weren’t crying for once and kissed his cheek.

“Your lips are supposed to actually touch mine you dingbat.” Dan rolled his eyes as he pushed Phil away a little, just to edge closer to him right after.

“You can’t call me dingbat when I call you babe.” Phil frowned as Dan wrapped his arms around his neck. 

“Dingbabe.” He corrected in a whisper and closed the left distance between them, quickly pecking Phil on the lips before a smile spread across their faces. 

“Please don’t stick with that.” Phil begged quietly, even though he’d be fine with every nickname that included at least something cheesy.

“Oh you don’t get to choose dingbabe.” Their eyes were still locked and neither of them dared to move in that moment, hoping that if they froze, time would as well.

Stop, as they were kneeling on Phil’s bed, Dan’s arms crossed behind his neck and both of them smiling. Smiling because they were happy, even if it was just a little, it was more than they’d felt in a long time. More than pain and despair and anger. 

And they wished it could be like this forever. Without yelling parents, alcohol and bruises. Without a gasping void and painful emptiness. Just them in a locked room, with meaningless banter and quick or slow kisses. 

“Please make this last.” Dan mumbled, his smile fading as his gaze darted between the blue of Phil’s eyes and the soft pink of his lips.

“We have time.”

But Dan pulled away and rolled over to lay down. Back in the position he’d been in a few minutes ago, staring up at the ceiling and finding himself in a spiral of thoughts.

Because happiness doesn’t last and as his mood was unstable. And even though he knew that it was good for now, in those seconds. That it could’ve stayed good for a while even, if he didn’t ruin it. Hope was so destructive and the day had barely begun. It was still morning and they had already yelled, hurt and kissed. And time didn’t stop, the day would pass and tomorrow could bring back what they both feared. The day would pass and maybe in a week Dan would sit in his room, cutting open his skin and Phil would sit on the streets, waiting for a car. 

Because five days were nothing and so many more days were about to come. So many possibilities and Dan could beg and pray and try everything he could to make time stop but it wouldn’t. 

“What are you thinking about?” Phil asked when the silence made them forget the laughters they’d shared. 

“Are we moving too fast?” It wasn’t just a rhetorical question, because Dan didn’t know the answer. He didn’t know why he was even asking that when the past days felt like decades.

“Too fast for what?”

“To be real? To last? To actually mean something?” Dan asked, meeting Phil’s eyes and regretting it immediately as they were filled with hurt and confusion. 

“Don’t-“ He added, sitting up again and urging to go back to playful flirting and laughter. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with my mind. I just want this to last and I want it to mean something, because it does to me.” 

Phil at first kept his eyes on Dan, mouth not moving as he thought of an answer to his question. Gazing into Dan’s eyes as if he’d find an answer in the comfortable sorrowness of them. And he wondered:

_ Are we moving too fast? _

Though what exactly was too fast in their case? When days were numbered and the clock was coming to an end? What was fast when the craving to end their lives was so incredibly high that the wish would be executed so soon?

People consider dating after a month of knowing each other to be “too fast”, but knowing Dan for five days felt like five years, and he debated on whether he’d follow the people’s judgement or his own. 

Would he follow the people’s judgement to remain unhappy? Having nothing changed at all only to live alone for the rest of eternity? Or would he do what he wanted for a chance of that forgotten feeling of happiness that he felt for the first time today in a while to have again? 

_ Make this last.  _

And Phil wanted to. He needed it to last as much as Dan did because he  _ needed _ Dan. And he even asked himself how he managed to fall in love when the only thing he felt for years was hate? 

Though he did, and Phil wasn’t complaining. 

And as much as he had no clue on how to make it last, he knew he would try his best to. He would try his best for Dan and for him. He would try his best because he never did and no one else did as well. 

“Dan,” Phil began, his voice serene as he reached for Dan’s hand, slipping his fingers into Dan’s grip before squeezing it gently. “It is going to last. This means so much to me as well.  _ You  _ mean so much to me.” He continued, the same soft smile from earlier appearing on his face. And before his next words, he bit the inside of his cheek because as much as he wanted to say them, he wanted to stop himself. “I promise.” 

And promises were a big thing to make. They could either be meant or taken for granted. They could either be kept or broken. 

And Phil had too many promises broken throughout his life, therefore there was no intention on hurting Dan the same way he was hurt himself at all. 

He promised, and he meant it. 

But he was afraid that as he tried so hard to keep it, it would end up shattering right before his eyes, and the shards from broken words would pierce straight through his heart. 

Dan tilted his head a little as he furrowed his eyebrows, and Phil swore he saw the familiar glisten coating his eyes for a brief second. “You do?”

Phil meant his promise, and for now, that’s all that mattered. 

So he nodded and held out his pinky in front of Dan’s face, never failing to take the shy smile off his expression. A smile glazed with hope that had been buried into a dark hole for so long and had been only recently dug out. “Pinky promise?” He asked as he watched as Dan’s eyes darted between his finger and his eyes, and it was a couple seconds before their pinkies linked together. A childish way to ensure a promise, but it felt as if it was the only way. And their pinkies held on to each other with a strength Phil had thought he’d lost throughout the years, and it was a strength that came with will. The will to stay for Dan, and the will to make it last. 

“Pinky promise.” 

And Dan just smiled as he let go of Phil's finger, believing or not believing the promise he just metaphorically accepted. Returning it or not returning it as he wasn't sure if you could just promise that something would last. He swore that it meant much to him, swore that Phil meant much to him, but just because things are good, things are promised and things are meant to last, doesn’t mean that they will.   
  
They didn’t when they came out of the mouth of an alcoholic, when the words were still half slurred in the middle of the night, after arguing for hours, after promising that it would be the last time. A promise just meant to be broken when another day passed and he came home from school crying and she couldn’t deal with him because it’s already been so many hours and the bottle was in arm reach.   
  
They didn’t last when they came out of the mouth of a temporary friend in fourth grade, when there was discomfort in their voice, after listening to his secret, after promising that everything would be okay. Okay when just a week after not even glances met anymore and okay was just something polite to say and he knew that friend lied because his mum was still drinking and he was still hurting and it’s been years.    
  
And maybe it was different when they came out of Phil’s mouth, maybe a childish ritual convinced the universe, convinced god, the odds or whatever was in charge to make it last and maybe it didn’t.    
  
But Dan was still smiling and “Why do we always have to be so cheesy?” Rolled off his tongue so easily, that he even let out a light chuckle.    
  
“Well I’m not the cheesy one here.” Phil whispered as he leaned against the headboard. “And you can’t tell me that you don’t like it at least a bit sappy.”    
  
Dan rolled his eyes and edged closer to Phil until they sat next to each other on the mattress, shoulders brushing as he tried not to fall off the bed like he had in the morning. “At least I’m not named after a cheese Mr Leicester.”   
  
“You can have that last name if you want to.” The smirk on Phil’s lips turned into a full on toothy grin.   
  
“Oh my god shut the fuck up.” Dan winced as he covered his face with his hand, resisting the urge to just push Phil off the mattress for that.   
  
But the black haired boy just chuckled as he peeled Dan’s fingers off his warm face, revealing the blush that had tinted his skin. “Just another joke babe.”   
  
“Just another reason for me to call you a cheesy dingbat.” Dan muttered, a smile lightly tugging on his lips as he turned away so that Phil couldn’t see.    
  
“What happened to the babe?” He asked, tilting his head once again surprised by how easily they could turn tears into laughter.   
  
With a quick turn Dan hovered over Phil, poking his chest repeatedly at each of the words he whispered. “It had enough of your shit and left.”    
  
“But you’re still here.” Phil smirked and Dan just flipped back over, sitting in the same position as before as he banged his head against the headboard with a loud thud before he huffed out a quiet laugh.   
  
“Why weren’t we friends when we were at school?” He turned his head to look at Phil who was still smiling widely.   
  
He’d asked himself the question over and over again in the past five days, but he didn’t know the answer. For some time he had friends at school, at least from fifth to seventh grade, but after that he was barely talking to anyone. He and Phil had been in a few courses together and still he’d never tried to get to know the only other lonely boy in the classroom.   
  
Dan couldn’t remember ever talking to him, but he knew that he existed, he’d heard the rumours that went around and acknowledged how similar they both were, but still he’d never done more than staring at the bruises on his skin.    
  
A month ago they‘d been strangers, even a week ago and now he sat next to Phil on his bed, he was able to just kiss him when he wanted and he couldn’t help but ask himself why he hadn’t been able to just talk to him before.

Why hadn’t he asked Phil if he was okay back in eighth grade when he heard him crying in the bathroom stall, when he walked out like nothing ever happened and Dan just accepted that.

Why did he wait? Wait for the world to ruin them to the point of not wanting to exist. For their families to turn into a source of pain and their hearts to break, until only cars and blades and bridges could heal them. 

Wait for them to meet on a cold street, ready to give up on trying, give up on parents, on themselves and the promise to make it through another year. 

And maybe it was too late now. Maybe he’d waited too long and maybe they wouldn’t last. Maybe they wouldn’t break because of not meaning enough to each other but because of not being able to live a life they’d already given up on. 

The smile on Phil’s face had reduced itself into a thin, expression-less line as he recalled how many times Dan’s question had gone through his head as well over the last five days, and his eyes fell onto the bed beneath them as he looked for answers. 

Though there was no need for searching the crevices of the sheet they sat on, and there was no need to stay silent for moments that seemed as if they would never end.

It was a simple question with a simple answer, but when were things ever simple for Phil? 

“Fear?” He replied, his words no louder than a low whisper as well as not being entirely sure, and his eyes met Dan’s once again.

Fear drew them apart the same way it drew them together. An emotion capable of driving any proceeded action. An emotion as if it had a mind of its own while it overpowered the mind. 

And fear controlled Phil all of his life. It kept him from defending himself, from moving, from talking, from breathing, from existing. It kept him from being himself in a world where he wasn’t able to. It kept him from loving himself in worry that he’d end up hating himself even more. It kept him in his room, hiding from his father. It kept him away from his mother, afraid to call out for help when it would probably end up misunderstood and in sharp, red nails dug into his side. 

It was fear that kept Phil stuck in his place as he cried at school, ignored by the students who would only snicker or stare. It kept him stuck when all he wanted to do was go to the source of the breathtaking piano melody that he would hear every now and then as those same, constant tears dripped down his face while he clawed at his skin in frustration. 

And maybe if he did get up, if he had mustered the courage to take a few steps in that direction, then maybe they would’ve been friends sooner. 

But he was afraid, that’s all.

“You think so?” 

Phil shrugged, shaking his head a little. “I don’t know. I was afraid at least.” He answered, a sigh escaping his mouth. 

Dan matched Phil’s head tilt, and a look of concern appeared on his face, analysing the boy in front of him like the first time they’d met. “Afraid of what?” 

He thought for a couple of seconds, and in those moments he acknowledged the burning feeling on his face for perhaps the first time that morning, bringing back what had been only temporarily forgotten. “Of good. That I could have something good without it turning bad or having something good for it eventually turning bad.”

And Dan didn’t respond, but Phil was sure that he understood from the very brief nod he made as his eyes disconnected from Phil’s only to fall on his own lap. Though Phil took his hand into his own and squeezed it lightly as he did earlier. 

“But we’re friends now. That’s what matters, right?” He said, smiling at Dan who ended up looking up at him once more. 

“Yeah.” Dan returned the soft smile and paused, making Phil question his sudden change of expression. “Can’t believe you just friendzoned me, by the way.”

“We were having a very intimate moment there and you had to ruin it, didn’t you?” Phil shook his head in disbelief as a laugh escaped him, resulting in Dan who let out a chuckle beside him. 

“Of course.” Dan put on a cheeky smile watching Phil still fondly as he continued to quietly laugh. 

And maybe that said something about the two, how conversations and emotions could be switched in so little time and it felt natural rather than uncomfortable.

Maybe they wouldn’t have to be bad in the end. Maybe it would be fine with them for once. And maybe Phil didn’t have to be afraid, and that was okay. 

But he had marks on his face and scars and filth on his body. Marks from his parents, scars from himself, and filth from what he considered his “job”. And he hated, absolutely  _ despised, _ all three with his entire being or whatever was left of it. 

But things were going to be okay, right?

Right. 

Though as he dwelled deeper into his thoughts, remembering what was better left in the back of his mind, his father’s words were yelled back into his head. 

_ Don’t let me see your face around my house ever again. You’ve got two days to pack your bags and get the hell out of here. _

“Oh, fuck!” Phil suddenly exclaimed and jolted up in a straight seating position, placing his hands on his face in a troubled manner, and it didn’t even take longer than a second for him to look extremely panicked. 

Dan frowned, also sitting up with very visible and clear anxiety on his face, and placed his hand on Phil’s shoulder as his eyes darted up and down his body, watching as his chest rose and fell with every heavy breath. “W-What’s wrong? What happened?” 

“I-I just remembered I have to move out tomorrow. I have to move out but I have nowhere and nothing. I-I’m so stupid for defending myself against my dad, I should’ve stayed quiet like always. I don’t know what to do, Dan. Live on the streets?” He rambled aimlessly, not taking any sort of breath in between words as they all clashed together as if they were on pins and needles. 

He fought against his tears that formed as quick as his nervousness, not wanting them to fall because he’d break, and he didn’t want to break because he didn’t want to lose the state of laughter only to find that he could never have it again.

Because after all, he was afraid. He was always afraid, and here he was again with fear seeping through the folds in his mind with nothing having changed. 

This was his reality, and  _ god,  _ if Dan wasn’t in it, he’d take the escape route and leave without hesitation. 

This was his reality and he was  _ damn-well fucked.  _

“It’s okay, don’t panic.” Dan began, edging a bit closer to let his hand slip hesitantly into Phil’s. Because as much as he couldn’t understand what Phil had meant by being afraid, he could. Afraid of ruining the good and afraid of going too far for the thin threads to hold. But Phil had held his hand multiple times, he wouldn’t pull away, they could hold hands now. “You can sleep at my place until you find something else, are you sure they’re gonna go through with it?”

“My dad made it pretty clear.” Phil answered, his hand radiating warmth in Dan’s palm even though he was shaking a little. The touch was still unfamiliar, skin on skin and Dan wanted to flinch under it, even if it was Phil, sometimes it felt like a stranger. 

He looked up from their intertwined fingers to meet Phil’s tear glistening eyes and allowed a small, reassuring smile to tug on his lips. “I’ll help you, yeah? Do you have a laptop?”

Phil sighed before he nodded and pulled his hand out of Dan’s, to stand up and grab the laptop on his desk. He handed it Dan and climbed back onto the bed, next to the brown haired boy without leaving any space between their bodies. 

“We’re gonna look for flats in the area first, so that I can come over whenever I want.” Dan smiled, leaning back against the headboard while placing the laptop on his lap. But Phil didn’t respond, he just stared at the screen and the various links to apartment rental sites. 

Dan turned his head to make eye contact with the boy next to him, but all he could do was study his face, the despair in his eyes, scanning the monthly rent of places he would have to work day and night for, just to have a bed to sleep in. They’d just graduated and now Phil’s eyes welled with tears at the thought of having to call landlords and moving companies, of having to worry about bills to pay with money he didn’t have. 

And Dan could understand it. He had to look for jobs as well, he’d been looking for jobs for months, sending out application after application, so that there wouldn’t be a second termination notice from their landlord get taped to their door. The money his mum had saved was running out, the money they’d gotten from Dan’s grandparents wouldn’t last another month and all Dan could do was beg his mum to go back to work instead of buying litres of alcohol. 

It sounded like a lie when he softly said that “everything’s going to be okay”, but he tried to mean it, tried to believe it as well. 

“You think so?” Phil asked, looking up and Dan wished he could soothe every worry that circled in his mind in that very second. 

“I hope so.” He turned his right hand on it’s back for Phil to lay his hand on his and intertwine their fingers. Maybe he did like it, maybe he just had to get used to the touch of someone who didn’t want to hurt him with it. 

They scrolled past plenty flats with a monthly rent of over  £ 1,000 and wrote down a few numbers of  £750, average looking ones. It didn’t feel real, it didn’t feel like they were actually looking for a home for Phil. It felt like playing the sims with a default family, less than 20,000 simoleons, which was never enough for a remotely okay house, and the intention not to cheat.

But they weren’t playing a game, this was reality, all of it was and it seemed like it was overwhelming Phil. 

“I don’t know what to say, what to ask, I don’t know how it works.” He blurted as he held his phone in his hands, the number dialed but he hadn’t pressed call yet. 

“Just say that you’re interested and that you’d like to see the flat before making any decisions.” Dan had done it before. He’d looked for flats, called numbers and discussed appointments for seeing the property until the landowners asked why his parents weren’t calling instead. He’d tried to move somewhere cheaper, but he was underage and his mum wouldn’t even listen to him. 

All he could do was hope that it would be okay, that he would get a job and be able to pay the bills, that his mum would sober up and get back to work. There was little to no chance for the last thing to happen, but he still wished it would.

“Would you come with me?” Phil’s question was hesitant, but Dan would always help him in every way he could. 

“Of course.” He smiled and it was weird. Because they’d only known each other for a few days and now they were lying in bed, looking for flats. Not to move in together, but still, it felt a little bit weird. 

Maybe because it all happened so quickly, maybe because it had just been a few hours since they’d admitted that they liked each other and maybe just because they hadn’t talked about that yet. 

Dan liked Phil and Phil said he liked Dan, but kissing Phil felt vaguely good behind all the doubt and all the questions that made every touch feel unfamiliar and wrong. He liked running his fingers through the boy’s black hair, liked the warmth that they exchanged when his head laid on Dan’s chest, but it also made him want to jump up from the bed, shove Phil away just enough to create some space between them. Some space to breathe, some space to collect his thoughts and some space to decide whether all of this was too much to handle or not enough. 

Dan liked Phil and he was torn between the urge to run and the desire to lean in to kiss him a few more times. 

Phil sighed, noticing the taste of iron that built up on his tongue as he tore off the skin off his lip nervously. Though, he nodded, aware that it was now or never because the day was going to eventually come to an end. And as his thumb shakily hovered over the green button, it was as if his vision spiraled, seeing the numbers twist into a knot and a sharp ringing in his ear. 

He knew he was afraid, but all of a sudden he could hear a tired “Hello?” at the other end of the line, a voice of a male that sounded as if he was in his forties. 

He gulped and looked at Dan with his eyebrows drawn together into a stressful frown before he focused his attention back on the pending conversation. “Um, hi. I’m calling about the-” His sentence took a pause at the dry feeling that scratched as his throat before he looked away from Dan because as much as the boy next to him calmed him down, he for some reason wasn’t able to face him currently. “About the flat up for rent? And I was wondering if I could book a viewing appointment since I’m.. interested.” 

His words came out slow and awkward, and if he wasn’t about to explode into a crying mess, he would probably laugh at himself. 

“Sure, that can be arranged. Could I have your name please?” 

“Ph-Phil, um, Lester.” He mumbled, making his words not really understandable that he could sense the confusion through the phone. 

“Sorry, could you repeat that? I didn’t quite get it.” The man said, accompanied with a friendly chuckle. 

“Sorry. Phil Lester.” Phil repeated, this time his words clear yet very monotonous. 

“Alright. When’s a suitable date for you?”

“Tomorrow?”

The man on the other side of the call went quiet for a couple seconds, and Phil assumed he was checking his schedule. After a few moments, he returned. “That works. I’ll see you at noon?” 

Phil nodded, before he rolled his eyes at himself after he remembered the man couldn’t see him. “Okay, yeah. Thank you, Mr. Wells.” He  became aware of the man’s name after he managed to glance at the website as he spoke. 

“Please, just call me Adam. It’s no problem. I’ll see you then!” 

“Bye..” Phil muttered, attempting a smile in hopes it would change the sadness in his voice but it didn’t. And it was odd, because Adam was able to change his tone from tired to professional, while Phil remained with his bore of a tone. 

After the call ended, it was almost immediately that he received a text from the number he phoned. Phil didn’t open the message. He didn’t want to see where he’d have to spend the rest of his life. He didn’t want to face what was awaiting him. He didn’t want to face anything yet everything was being thrown onto him, drawing blood and painful headaches. 

And with everything, he only had £50. 

£50 with a rent of £750. 

_ Fuck _ . 

He finally locked eyes with Dan where they at first exchanged no words, and instead Phil melted onto Dan’s chest after he welcomed him with open arms, wrapping him into a warm hug. Dan’s heart beat slowly in his chest, and Phil listened to the steady beat. He heard every inhale and exhale clear in his chest, and every swallow of saliva slush around in his mouth. And he put all his focus on Dan’s bodily functions because again, it was way better than facing the obvious topic that had to be discussed. 

“What time tomorrow?” Dan finally asked, his voice low into a whisper in order to not disturb Phil, who took in a trembling breath and might’ve held it for a bit. 

“Twelve.” 

“Okay. I’ll pick you up fifteen minutes before hand, yeah?”  Dan said to which Phil nodded and pressed his face more into the fabric, filling his mind with the scent of Dan and causing Dan’s lips to press against his ruffled hair. “It’ll be okay.” He reassured him once more, and the boy below him looked up at him with weary eyes that had a glimmer of hope every time Dan spoke. 

“Thank you..” Phil murmured, and Dan smiled at him to which Phil stretched his head upwards and pressed his lips against Dan’s in a gentle kiss, dismissing the blood on his lips and the idea of thinking before he acted out. 

Dan’s hand cupped Phil’s cheek as Phil adjusted his seating position, drawing them closer together as the kiss continued instead of stopping at a single peck. He needed something to hold him together, and that something was Dan, and with Dan came his lazy kisses, and comforting touches and words that Phil couldn’t seem to get enough of. 

Though to their luck, a phone suddenly burst out into a loud unfamiliar ring, and Phil disappointedly pulled away, brushing his lips gently along Dan’s until there was a distance between them and as a substitution, their fingers intertwined and Phil rested his head on Dan’s shoulder while Dan reached for his phone.  

“Who is it?” Phil asked, looking up at the unclear phone screen with furrowed eyebrows as his thumb rubbed circular motions over Dan’s hand. 

“My mum.” Dan replied, sounding almost irritated at the mention of her name, and Phil wasn’t entirely sure why. In fact, Phil was clueless at the reason of the change of Dan’s tone. “Hold on, let me see what she wants..” He continued, before tapping the green and holding his phone up to his ear.

“Mum why-” He began, but she didn’t let him finish his question. “Where are you?” She yelled through the speakers in the familiar slurred voice and Dan hoped Phil couldn’t hear it.          

He shot Phil an apologetic glance before letting go of his hands and edging away a little, enough to make Phil lift his head from his shoulder in concern and enough to create some distance between them. 

“I’m at a friend’s house.” He answered, knowing his mum wouldn’t believe him anyways.

She let out a huffed laugh. “Cut the bullshit and come home.”

“Yeah.” He answered, his teeth grinding over his bottom lip as all he wanted was to ask why he had to come home now and why she even cared where he was. But it was pointless. 

“Now!” She didn’t care, she just wanted to yell at him in person, shove him around and throw at him whatever was in reach. Let out her frustration by bellowing how disappointed she was, how she had to explain to the school why he wasn’t at the graduation when all she wanted was to drink and pass out. “School called again, don’t think you’re gonna get away with that.”

For a brief second Dan closed his eyes just to breathe as her yelling echoed in his ears. He couldn’t argue with her, not only because he was right next to Phil, but because his mum wouldn’t listen to him anyways. “Yeah.”

He could hear her start another sentence, but he just hung up instead. She never called, but of course she did the one time he’s with someone. She’d called a few times when he was at school, asking him to get another bottle of wine or whatever would get her through the day. But now he was at Phil’s house, kissing him, trying to get used to the unfamiliar feeling that felt a little bit too wrong to be right. Trying to convince himself that he could hold another boy’s hand, even if that boy was somehow still a stranger and somehow more than just a friend. And now he had to leave, go home to where a touch meant a hit and warmth only spread through tears and burning cuts. 

Dan tried to collect himself and turned back to Phil, who was still looking at him with furrowed brows and a concerned look on his face. “What did she say?”

“She just wants me to come home.” Dan sounded casual, pretending that  _ just coming home _ didn’t include thrown bottles and pain.

“Oh okay.” And Dan couldn’t tell if Phil was pretending that he didn’t hear the yelling through the speakers or not.

“I don’t have to leave though.” He did, but he rather stayed there, even if doubt and frustration circled in his mind whenever he got overwhelmed by the attention he got from Phil.

Dan didn’t know what he wanted and sometimes he just wanted to say that his feelings for Phil were delusional.

That he didn’t actually like Phil, that he had reasons for not liking him and that he just tried to talk himself into it, for Phil and because relationships were much more secure than friendships. Not because he might’ve actually fallen for a boy.

But he wasn’t being irrational, he didn’t believe something contradicted by facts, he liked Phil and he liked kissing Phil, he just hated the fact that he did. And that was the only thing he had to get used to.

“No, no. It’s alright. Your mom wants you to go home so,” Phil replied, a sad smile tugging upwards at the corners of his mouth. He obviously didn’t want Dan to leave. He just wanted to stay with him for as long as possible, even to the point that Dan would become sick of him. And even if Dan were to become annoyed with his presence at one point, it was still better than having to be completely without Dan in a room he didn’t want to be in. 

“Are you sure?” Dan asked, though in his eyes Phil saw somewhat of a plead, but Phil didn’t quite get it. 

He stayed silent as he thought about why Dan had a hint of distress in his gaze, but even with what he was thinking, he still nodded and said, “Yeah, I’m sure.” And as he spoke, he got up from the bed and stretched his arms out, resulting in a crack of something somewhere in his body. He saw Dan watching him from the corner of his eyes, waiting for perhaps a change of mind from Phil. 

But Phil still didn’t go with it. He didn’t know the consequences if he did. He didn’t know what Dan’s mom was like, and he didn’t know he serious she would take it if Dan had decided to stay. So, he remained silent regarding it, unsure whether or not that was the best thing to do. 

He turned around once more to face Dan, who had stood up as well, and smiled a little at him as he watched Dan walk over to him. As they made they way to the entrance, of course while being very quiet and careful, Phil opened his mouth to speak and break the silence that had seeped into the atmosphere. 

“Can I walk to your house with you?” He asked, and he saw Dan’s eyebrows furrow in a slightly worried manner as well as his mouth gaping open just a bit, but before he could say anything, Phil continued with, “I won’t go into your house. I just don’t really...want to be here without you.”

Dan stared at Phil for a couple of seconds before he nodded, the fadest of smiles on his visage and that only increased Phil’s questions even more. He wanted to know why Dan suddenly had  a drop in his mood and why he’d been so quiet ever since he spoke to his mom. But could he ask? 

He wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t want another outburst, and this time they already confessed their feelings to each other, so Phil was afraid that the bad ending would take place instead. 

The pair made their way out of Phil’s apartment and out onto the streets, walking side by side and making sure their shoulders brushed with every step. Occasionally, their fingers would link together only briefly before they’d detach due to a stranger walking towards them which was slightly frustrating. 

All Phil wanted to do was be with Dan. To hold him and be held, to touch him and be touched, to kiss him and be kissed. But they couldn’t, because nothing lasts forever. Nothing lasts forever made Phil want to be Dan’s nothing, and it made Phil want Dan to be his. Nothing that’s secretly everything. And it doesn’t last because there’s always gonna be a reason it doesn’t, whether it's themselves, the other or someone else. 

And it was relatively a good day in terms of weather. Brightfullness that struck their glistening skin stained with tears, hurt, and love, and it was warm. Too warm for the hours of November that was soon to be December, and too warm for the snow that Dan had resembled. 

But Dan wasn’t cold. 

He was just tired, Phil figured. 

He was like leaves that had fallen. Shriveled and prepared to be stomped on, expecting himself to be. 

But more importantly, Phil knew that Dan was kalon, a beauty that is more than skin deep. 

He hoped that things would work. That Dan was right and things would be okay. He wanted them to be, and he hoped it even more for the boy who lazily dragged himself along the sidewalk beside him. And maybe they would be okay. Maybe leaving his parents was better. He wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore. He wouldn’t have to fear hearing the  _ click  _ of the lock every time he entered the house. He wouldn’t have to fear existing. So yeah, maybe things would be okay. 

And it wasn’t long before they arrived to Dan’s building, both staring up at the several levels of floors until they saw the top, not saying a word because a word meant goodbye. A breeze krept its way beneath Phil’s shirt, sending shivers down his spine before he turned to look at Dan who had still been in a trance, staring out into nothing as his thoughts visibly engulfed him. 

“Dan?” Phil asked, tilting his head a little as he scanned Dan’s facial expression. But he got no response and instead a quiet sigh escaped from behind Dan’s lips. Phil frowned in concern before he took ahold of Dan’s hands and went to stand in front of him so that they faced each other. “Call me whenever you want to okay? I’ll answer.” He said, because if he wouldn’t talk to him now, Phil wanted to let him know that he could later.

_ Always call and I’ll be there _ . 

Though once again, Dan just nodded, and Phil held Dan’s face in his hands as he placed a kiss against his forehead, transitioning into a hug after that and thankfully Dan hugged back, but Phil sensed that Dan was hugging him in a way that he never wanted to be let go. “You’ll be okay, lovely.” 

“Yeah..” Dan mumbled, his voice exhausted and sounding as if he hadn’t spoken for years. 

They pulled away from each other, gazing into the others eyes before Phil said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” 

“Yeah.” Dan replied, breaking eye contact to look beyond Phil at the entrance doors behind him. 

“If you feel too tired to meet up tomorrow, just let me know, okay?” 

“No, no. I’ll be fine to come. I’ll text you later.” 

Phil nodded, giving Dan one last smile before they said their goodbyes and parted their ways. It felt weird walking back home without Dan. And unlike before, now he had the urge to speak. To tell someone about his day and listen to someone talk about their own. He would be listened to this time, and not looked over or told to shut up, and that felt good. It gave him the feeling of being wanted, and that was something very strange to him.

But strange can be good sometimes, and so can the change that joins it. 

And now all his mind ever thought of was Dan either if he was with him or not. Wondering what he would be doing currently, and if he was okay. Wondering if something had put a smile on his face or if something had made him stream tears like a broken faucet. Wondering if Dan had eaten anything or if he drank a little bit of water. Wondering what kind of pain he was going through and thinking of how he could possibly make him feel better.

And maybe it was an obsession, maybe not. Maybe obsession was too strong of a word, and instead it was simply caring so very much for him. And perhaps it was fear that struck once more. The fear to be abandoned suddenly with no given warning. That one day he wouldn’t hear from Dan again, and that worried him. The thought stressed him greatly, and if God were real he’d pray for the day to never come. 

And he was sure that he was terrified when he heard the nearing growl of a car engine getting closer and closer every second while getting slower and slower respectively. He shoved his trembling hands in his pockets and sped up his pace, but he felt his heart drop when the car honked behind him and a joined whistle was sounded. 

He stopped in his tracks, taking a deep breath before he completely turned around and in a second, he felt himself swallow the acidity that jolted its way into his mouth. 

“What took you so long to stop for? I might have to charge you for the gas you just used up.” The man in the front seat grinned mischievously, and it made Phil want to lunge himself off a cliff immediately. 

“Wh-What do you want?” Phil stammered, increasingly becoming more and more nervous as the conversation progressed, and internally, he was begging that his eyes were deceiving him. That the man in front of him wasn’t the man he thought he was. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” The man teased, winking at Phil and making his stomach flip itself inside out in disgust to his words. 

“I- No. This is illegal. You’re older than I am.” Phil shook his head, and resumed his walking, aware that the man would follow anyways.

_ Call Dan. _

_ You can’t. What would you even say? _

“ _ This  _ is illegal? The only illegal thing happening is what you’re doing. I can easily report you for prostitution.” The man spoke over the sound of the engine as he forwarded besides Phil. “Plus, I’m not that old.”

Phil felt his throat tighten, and he wanted to cry so badly, but he didn’t. Instead, he stopped again, allowing his index finger and thumb to fiddle together anxiously. The last thing he needed was for him to be trapped in a jail cell only to be bailed out by either his parents or Dan, and he couldn’t tell which one was worse.  “I-I’m not working now.” 

“I’ll pay extra.”

The blood in his veins boiled at the offer. He wanted to run away. He wanted to run away  _ now  _ but he couldn’t. And he wanted to scream at the man in front of him. He wanted to report him before he got the chance to report Phil. But he  _ couldn’t _ . “Why the fuck am I supposed to let you touch me? You almost killed me five days ago!” 

The man in the car was the reason Phil almost killed himself just as he was the reason for Phil to meet Dan. 

_ Fuck _ , he didn’t want to do this to Dan. 

He wanted Dan, not the man that stared at him lustfully. 

But he had no choice. 

Or at least, he thought he didn’t have one. 

“I was drunk! I didn’t mean it. Come on Philly-”

Phil felt himself internally gag at the nickname, and he was sure that he probably externally showed it. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Whatever. I don’t have time for this. Here’s the offer: £300 because I’m feeling generous and I wanna make up for not paying you last time. Take it or leave it.” 

He chewed on his bottom lip and scratched at his forearm in a way that showed he was beyond anxious, even though his face looked unusually calm. “£400.”

_ Stop considering this, Phil. You’re gonna ruin things.  _

“What? No! What do you think I am? A bank?” 

Phil’s eyes followed the car that drove past him, seeing how the driver paid little to no attention to them at all. “You’re going to hurt me again.”

“I’m not.”

“But you will.”

“Is £300 not enough for you? Get in the fucking car, or I will seriously turn you in.” The man sneered, gesturing to the back seat as he spoke with an aggressive tone and vibe radiating off of him. 

He felt taken aback for a moment, feeling his chest tighten along with every single other limb attached to his body and knives pierce through his dirty heart. “F-Fine, okay.” He muttered, noticing how the man’s expression relaxed and how he nodded approvingly. 

“Perfect. Hop in.” The man grinned before unlocking the car door for Phil and watched him as he got in with a disturbing hunger in his eyes. 

_ This isn’t harassment.  _

_ This is my job.  _

_ This is what I chose.  _

_ This is no one’s fault but mine.  _

_ And Dan isn’t my boyfriend.  _

_ Is he? _

_ You kissed him like how you kissed the man beside you that keeps slipping his hand along your inner thigh.  _

_ But I have feelings for Da- _

_ £300. That’s more important than Dan.  _

_ And you placed your fingers on Dan’s clothes the same way you’re letting this man guide your zipper downwards.  _

_ It isn’t the same. I don’t want this. _

_ But it is the same. No matter if you want it or not.  _

And he couldn’t tell whether it was himself or the man that he hadn’t realized was now in front of him that said  _ Be a good whore, do your job, and don’t complain. _

_ How could I be doing this to Dan? _

_ How can I be so horrible? _

_ I don’t deserve Dan.  _

_ Fuck, I don’t deserve him.  _

_ I’m terrible.  _

_ I’m disgusting.  _

_ Why would he ever want someone like me? _

He hated this. 

He hated this so much. 

He didn’t want this. 

He never wanted this. 

But £300 was £300.

And a threaten was a threaten.

And guilt was still guilt the same way regret was still regret even if he was in a relationship or not.  

The same way cheating was still cheating. 

Dan would understand if he knew.

At least Phil hoped that he would, but it was stupid to hope that he would. 

Because how could Dan ever accept that Phil wasn’t as pure as he had thought he was? That instead of Dan, a stranger was currently undressing him, exposing him in every single way possible, to both the cold and the warmth and the embarrassment that burned him alive and stained his skin with sweat and love-bites developed by a feeling far from love. How could Dan ever accept that Phil allowed himself to be held by someone else? Kissed by someone else? And touched by someone else? 

Dan wouldn’t, and it was stupid to ever think he would. 


	12. Chapter 12

The second Dan inhaled the mixture of cigarette smoke and cheap wine he wanted to fly down the stairs, skip step after step just to be back in Phil’s arms as quickly as possible.Taking in the unfamiliar warmth that came within subtle touches, within skepticism and hesitation. Anything was better than the despair mingled with fear of the predictable yelling, echoing and bouncing off alcohol drenched walls. 

Across the hall stood his mother, awoken like a monster by the sound of rustling keys and clicking doors and Dan wished he couldn’t see more than his mother in the messy figure holding a bottle in her right hand, but he did. He saw the woman who’d narrow her eyes with every gut wrenching word that left her unpainted lips, who’d smile in such a hurtful manner, mocking and dragging down what was left of Dan. He saw the woman who depended so much on his help, but accused him of being absolutely useless. So useless that glass easily shattered when it hit him, that simple words made him hold his breath and hold back his tears, so useless that cuts ran up and down his skin like the alcohol in his veins, that he’d stolen out of her hands. 

Just looking at her from across the hall made breathing a thousand times more exhausting as the weight her eyes pressed on his chest deflated his lungs. It made him call sleeping heaven and being awake hell. But words couldn’t describe what anything after just looking did to him. What yelling caused to rupture and touching caused to break. 

Dan couldn’t fight whatever she threw at him. Not what she said, not her threatening shoves or her palm slamming against his skin. He could do nothing but stand in the entrance of his home, enduring whatever she needed to let out on him, whatever caused her to drink a little bit more today, whatever drove her over the edge. Whether it was his fault or not. 

And this time it was and it made it a little bit worse. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Her left hand reached for the ripped open mail on the counter just to land in Dan’s face and afterwards on the floor. Papers that he should’ve gotten handed gracefully in front of applauding parents, students and teachers. Papers that he should’ve smiled at and not lost his mind in instead of looking at what his mum was and wasn’t anymore.

It came with the mail, got teared apart by hands that were usually busy holding cigarettes and liquor and ended up on the stained floor of a flat he just wanted to get out of. 

“All you do is ruin things, make things worse!” She stepped closer, stepped on the papers that belonged in a frame on freshly painted walls or neatly stored away somewhere. “A fucking burden are you!”

He could smell the alcohol that accompanied her already toxic words and he asked himself if Phil knew that smell from him. 

“If you knew how much I’d love to slap you in the face right now.” It was almost like a whisper but much louder than any yell, ringing in Dan’s ears and breaking his bones to the point of not being able to stand anymore. But he stood and he breathed and he dared to part his lips for a quiet “do it.”

And she did. Shooting a pain through Dan’s cheek and his entire body, a pain he knew so well but never got used to. Maybe because he knew that mum’s didn’t usually hit their sons or maybe because it still burned so badly. 

And maybe he shouldn’t have dared her, maybe there was a reason for him never raising his voice when her fingers could reach him so easily. Fingers that now dug into his skin, clasping his face with one hand as she slammed his head against the wall. 

“You fucking idiot.” She bellowed and Dan wished his eyes weren’t as brown as hers. 

He tried to loosen her grip, tried to get her away from her before her hands could wander down to his neck, even if he knew that she wouldn’t do that. He hoped she wouldn’t.

“You won’t get away with this.” She shook her head before letting go of Dan, stumbling backwards to grab the phone on the counter. “Do you know how many times they called? And you asshole weren’t here to answer.”

“Call your teacher! Call him and tell him how fucking useless you are.” She hurled it at him, hitting him right in his face before it hit the floor. “Call him now!”

He wanted to cry, wanted to clutch his mobile in his hands as he dialed Phil’s number, wanted to press call and hold it up to his ear. Beg Phil to come back, come back to the building and tell him that he was going to be okay. He wanted to be in Phil’s arms, lay his head on his chest and make him untangle the mess of curls and the mess of thoughts pounding in his head. He wanted Phil to kiss away the pain, speak softly until those words replaced the ones his mum was still yelling, until his scent replaced alcohol and smoke. 

Dan’s head hurt, his skin burned, every thought that was nothing but a echo of his mum tortured him and still there was no end in sight. It felt like this would be going on forever until every object in the flat had been thrown at him and every spot on his skin was bruised. 

He tried to rush past her, make it somehow into his room but before he could shut his door close and twist the key in the lock, she stood in the room as well. “I said call him!” 

Within seconds she’d pushed onto the bed, one hand on his chest and one pressing the phone she’d picked up again to his ear. “Call him and tell him how stupid and useless you are!”   


But of course he wouldn’t. It was pointless, it was just a way of her to torment him. But  _ god, _ it worked. It made him want to yell and fight, made him wish he was the one getting kicked out. He felt small and he felt useless, unable to escape a ticking bomb, because still, he loved his mum so much. Even if his brain was screaming how much he hated her, knowing what alcohol had done to his mother hurt more than what he’d done to him. 

“Leave!” He begged, voice cracking as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Pleading for it to end, asking himself how all of this had began, not just this evening but the countless ones before. How his mum could do this, how liquor could erase every motherly trait, how it could make her want to abuse him, want to hurt him and drive him to the urge of killing himself.

Turning her into nothing but an alcoholic. 

And he yelled it once more, making her let go of the sweater Phil had twisted it’s fabric between his fingers the same way. Making her press him one last time into the mattress with all the force she had left in her weak arms, before shutting the door behind herself with a loud thud, that was nothing in comparison to the sob that escaped Dan’s tired lungs. 

Sobbing he quickly tried to get under control until nothing but suppressed crying shook his figure. He shot up from the bed, locked the door and sat back down on the grey covers, just to stand up again immediately after, feeling his mum’s hands on his chest once again just at the thought of what had just happened. 

He grabbed his phone that had been in his pocket the whole time, opening his and Phil’s chat, because he just couldn’t call him right now.    
He sent a single “phil” and locked his phone again, holding it firmly in his hand as he paced around in his room. But no sound occured, no vibration and he opened the chat again, sending the same message a second and a third time, before adding a desperate “please”. 

He needed Phil to answer, he needed to hear his voice or see his words in a default font as a text on his phone screen. Dan needed his soothing and he needed him to hold him, but he knew he couldn’t do that right now. He couldn’t leave the flat and Phil couldn’t get in.

So he hoped for an answer, for a quick “What happened?” to keep his promise. To stay true to his words and calm Dan down as tears streamed down his face. When his thoughts got worse from second to second and the urge to unwrap the blade and draw it across his arms got almost unbearable. He kept it in his bedside drawer, even though his mum didn’t care about the blood that shot out of his veins first in droplets, then in a stream, as if it had been pounding beneath his skin, waiting for its release.

_ I’ll answer. _

But he didn’t. He didn’t, not after minutes of pacing around and considering to just burst through the door and run to Phil. He didn’t answer his texts and he didn’t answer his calls and after a while Dan thought he never would. Phil wouldn’t answer, because he’d deleted Dan’s number after they’d confessed their feelings to each other. Feelings that weren’t mutual, feelings Dan hoped weren’t real and feelings Phil was so disgusted by that he couldn’t even imagine them . 

And all of a sudden Dan felt alone again. Just as alone as he’d felt six days ago and worse, because loneliness is unbearable after being close to a person for a while. His heart sunk with every tear that slowly dried down on his skin until he couldn’t cry any longer. Until he laid on the floor instead of his bed, dialing Phil’s number for the last time as he swore himself and as he’d sworn himself the time before. But once again there was no response and aside from the worry that grew in his chest, the pain did as well. 

Maybe Phil was busy, busy in a room he couldn’t leave or he was just annoyed by Dan’s clinginess and his pathetic attempts to reach him. Maybe he’d decided that five days were enough, that they were nothing and meant nothing. And maybe Phil had just pretended to like Dan the whole time and as Dan’s thoughts kept spiraling down, his hand reached for the bottle of a clear liquor that had rolled under his bed. Wishing the alcohol would take all his feelings like it had taken his mum’s.

_ God,  _ he just wanted to fall asleep and wake up with Phil in his arms, with hesitated kisses and unfamiliar touches. With something he just had to get used to, something that felt wrong and right at the same time. Something that hurt but didn’t hurt this much. 

Dan wanted to hear Phil’s voice through the speaker of his phone, wanted to beg him to come over to his house, like Phil had the night before. But it was still light outside, even though Dan’s room was almost pitch black and Phil didn’t answer

Maybe minutes had passed since Dan had felt a kiss to his forehead, maybe it’s been hours but it almost felt like days as the bitterness of the alcohol rushing down his throat slowly faded away like the agony that pumped through his veins with every beat of his heart, pushing the blood right under his skin, waiting to be released.

He couldn’t get up from the floor like the papers in the hall, but to his luck his nightstand was in arm reach and so was the blade, that he shortly after dragged over his skin as his phone stayed silent. 

Droplets of blood escaped the almost invisible tears in his skin, that would eventually turn red over time. And Dan didn’t care about ruining another thing, ruining his own body. Poisoning himself with alcohol and cutting a little too deep, never deep enough, maybe because he was just too tired to put enough pressure on the blade. 

He cared about Phil, cared about what he was thinking, what he was feeling or doing. Knowing that he would always answer his calls, always reply his texts within seconds, because he was so fucking desperate. Desperate enough to still like him, even if Phil thought of him as a burden. Even if he didn’t care and even if he didn’t answer Dan’s calls for help. 

And he hated it, hated every bit of what he felt for that boy and begged the blood that ran down his arm, to take that feeling with it. To be able to forget Phil like Phil forgot Dan. 

And maybe this job would’ve been easier for Phil if he didn’t like Dan so much. If he didn’t like him so much that every single touch on his bare skin made him imagine the boy in front of him, seeing Dan and not a stranger, and it made him feel extremely sick. 

The hour felt never-ending. Or was it two hours? He couldn’t tell anymore. He didn’t even know since he was too focused on the moment where he’d finally be able to leave. He wanted to leave desperately. He wanted to get off dirty, unknown sheets that his skin laid on, and he wanted to get out from underneath someone he couldn’t look in the eyes. Someone that if he did look in the eyes, he’d feel nausea clawing at his throat once more. 

He missed Dan. 

That was it. 

He missed him after two hours of not seeing him. 

And maybe if Phil went home he would’ve been able to get the chance to go back to Dan rather than being here, tears on the verge of spilling as he bit into his arm with pain surging through every area in his body. 

But going home meant £50 instead of £350. 

And this wasn’t the right choice, but it didn’t really matter because with every decision he made whether right or wrong, it was always gonna backfire against him. 

He wondered why he couldn’t have chosen a better job. Why he only saw prostitution as an option when the only thing it could do is make his life worse? Why couldn’t he have chosen to be a cashier at a local supermarket? A job with no pain and a job that was socially acceptable. A job Dan wouldn’t hate him for and a job that he wouldn’t have to hide. 

Perhaps it was too late now. 

Because no manager would take in a boy such as Phil, broken and filthy and a liar. A liar to himself and those around him. 

He lied and told himself that Dan would understand if he ever knew. 

Lied and said this wasn’t harassment. 

Lied and said that it would be okay. 

How could it? 

How could it when he had arms wrapped around someone else’s neck? Someone whose smell was intoxicating in a horrible way. Someone who made him sweat with distasteful warmth rather than comfort him. Someone whose words weren’t as soothing as Dan’s and didn’t sound nearly as good either. 

Someone who only increased the self-loathing he had for himself, taking away any chance of smiling that Phil had. 

God it fucking sucked. 

And it took him a couple shakes and a pinch on his skin to bring him back to reality, a reality where he stood bare in the middle of a grungy old room where paint tore off its walls, clutching a pillow to his chest as his body shivered from the overheated room. 

“Here’s your money, Phil.” The man in front of him said after pulling up the zipper on his jeans, the sound causing Phil to flinch. 

Phil stared at the three pieces of paper in front of him, each marked with £100. 

_ Take your money, Phil. It’s the only reason you agreed to this. _

“Th-Thanks..” Phil murmured, voice raspy, and throat dry and lit on fire, feeling the dark smoke against the roof of his mouth and he remembered when he and Dan shared a cigarette on his bed before things had changed between them. He shakily took the money, looking at it thoroughly before placing it on the nightstand behind him. 

His eyelids felt heavy as he scanned the floor for his clothes, finding them scattered and turned inside out, crumpled up like a ball of trash in the corner of the room. He went to go get them, wincing at the pain he felt with every step and the humiliation that came from the eyes that tunnelled into him. 

And within minutes he was dressed, staining his clothes with dirt that flaked off his skin at the graze of the fabric. The clothes that for a brief second smelled like Dan and now got masked over by the smell of shame that increased with every time he’d accidentally make eye contact with the man across from him

He slipped the money in his pockets as well as his phone before he turned to the man, looking everywhere but at him. Feeling himself smaller and more vulnerable than ever before and he  _ despised _ it. “C-Can I have money for the taxi p-please. I c-can’t walk home.”

“You have £300. Use those. They’ll give you change.”

“N-No. Please. I n-need these. I c-can’t lose any more money.” Phil was practically begging and he felt a familiar aching in his nose that he got right before he was about to cry. 

He was already pathetic, and crying wouldn’t change that. But he held it in anyways. 

And what Phil hated additionally were the stutters that came with his words every time he’d been hurt terribly. He was sure they were irritating to listen to as they were to form them. 

The man stayed quiet, looking over Phil who had wrapped his arms around his body, desperate for some sort of comfort that he would never get. After some time, he nodded and sighed, taking out a bill from his wallet and handing it over to Phil. “Fine. Here’s £20.” 

_ Pity _ .

But Phil didn’t even thank him. He didn’t smile. He didn’t do anything other than quietly take the money and walk out the front door without saying another word. And as soon as he was out, the door clicking behind him, he collapsed onto the floor. 

He collapsed onto the floor as well as the wall he had temporarily built in his mind, allowing tears upon tears to hurriedly trail onto the tiles beneath him while others sunk into the cracks in his skin. He collapsed, curling himself into a ball in front of the apartment door and clawing at his skin, urging the feelings from moments ago to go away so he wouldn’t have to think of himself so horribly. 

But it was his choice, and nothing but his choice. 

And maybe by now he would’ve killed himself. Maybe by now he would’ve made sure what he wanted six days ago came true. But  _ six days passed _ . That was exactly the reason why he couldn’t. Six days passed and he met a boy who was both a blessing and a curse. He met Dan and that was why he couldn’t pull the trigger on himself. 

Phil sat himself up, still very much trembling to the point where his teeth chattered and pulled out his phone. 

_ No.  _

On his lock screen were several phone calls and messages from Dan, each text worse than the last, and each missed call notification punching him straight in his stomach.

_ “Phil  _

_ Please” _

But Phil wasn’t there. He didn’t answer like he said he would. He lied. He lied once more and to the only person he was able to connect with in his entire life. 

Instantly, he opened the messenger app and went to the first contact, Dan, and rushed an answer through tremulous and alarmed hands. 

_ Dan, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t have my phone. I had to deal with my parents. Please respond. I’m sorry.  _

And yet another lie. 

Because Phil was never going to let Dan know about this no matter what and he was sure that it would end terribly if he did. 

He sat, waiting for a response. 

Waiting for something.

A customized text tone. 

_ Something.  _

But nothing came. 

And Phil began to worry and cry even harder. 

He was so stupid. So beyond idiotic to let £300 be prioritised over Dan. He could’ve got them another way. He could’ve stolen them from his parents’ emergency money stash. He was going to steal some anyways, so why did he have to be so brainless and do this instead? 

He didn’t know what state Dan was in currently. He didn’t know if Dan was dead or alive. He didn’t know Dan’s whereabouts. He knew nothing when all he wanted was to know everything about the boy to help him. 

_ Help him? Come on Phil, you’re the worst possible human being ever. You’d rather sell your body than help a friend. And the thing is, he’s more than a friend. He trusted you, and you didn’t keep your word. He hates you more than you hate yourself. You can’t always be there for him because of your selfish needs.  _

_ He doesn’t hate me. That’s not true.  _

_ It is and we both know it.  _

_ Shut up. I need to find Dan- _

_ Yeah go find him while clearly looking like the harlot you are.  _

_ Shut up.  _

Phil stumbled into an upright position and immediately dashed down the hallway, trying his best to ignore the pain and how much his body felt like it was being roasted alive. As he impatiently paced back and forth in the elevator, he dialed Dan one more time but there was still no answer and Phil resisted every urge to slam his phone onto the mirror that he daren’t to look at. 

“Come on, Dan. Answer me.” His words came out in a whimper, unable to come out clearly in an empty space as he held the phone up to his ears waiting to hear his voice when he called again no matter how broken it was going to be. 

He rushed out the building, halting in his steps once he was outside in order to be aware of his surroundings for the sake of making sure this was reality, and so that he could figure out where he was. 

The sun had begun to set early that day, resulting in twilight that Phil would consider beautiful if he didn’t feel as though his head was going to crack open so that he’d bleed out right there and then. His eyes quickly scanned over the area, noticing the street he and Dan first met on.

It was the only road he was familiar with and so he took it, trying as hard as he could to ignore all the emotional pain he felt and the memories that followed them of that night. 

And thankfully, it didn’t take long for him to get to Dan’s building. He was only here a couple hours ago and now he was back, adjuring that Dan was okay. That Dan’s lungs and heart were still functioning and that he would be able to look at Phil without detestation, or if it meant that Dan was alive, he’d want Dan to push him and yell at him like the day before. 

He hurried up to the receptionist seated behind a simplistic desk looking calm and clean unlike Phil, and practically threw himself towards her which resulted in a very judgmental look but he didn’t currently care. 

“Hi, which floor and room is, um, Dan Howell? Daniel Howell?” Phil blurted, and he was sure he looked pretty unstable at how fast his words came out of his mouth, the heavy breathing, and the speed of his darting eyes. 

The woman looked at him in a very suspicious manner and Phil hoped she wouldn’t kick him out of the building. “Name please?”

“Phil Lester.” Phil replied with no hesitation, and now his fingers tapped on the desk impatiently. “Please. I need to see him.” He said, voice cracking at how nervous he had become. 

And once again, pity worked in his favour resulting in the woman to give in. “Room 43C. Third floor.” 

“Thank you.” 

With that, Phil speed walked towards the elevator, and as soon as the doors opened, he caught himself in the mirror and felt his stomach churn. He looked horrendous. His eyes sat on black bags, and additional sweat had formed on his skin from all the running he had been doing, as well as what he went through earlier. His hair had been ruffled in every sort of direction that Phil quickly ran his fingers through it, trying to tame it so that out of everything else it would look the most presentable. He had no time to fix his clothes, however. He just managed to pull his shirt down a bit, but his pants were stationed slightly lower than how they were supposed to be.

The elevator came to a stop, the doors opened revealing a long hallway with several doors, and suddenly Phil couldn’t breathe anymore. 

He didn’t know what to expect. 

No, not at all. 

He felt way too many emotions at once that they all clouded each other and left him feeling very perturbed. 

He walked towards room 43, his fingers fiddling together anxiously once more, and with a deep breath, he knocked on the door. 

A woman, who Phil assumed was Dan’s mother, opened the door and it was no longer than a second before Phil could smell the scent of cigarettes and alcohol lingering in the air and brushing right beneath his nose. But before he could say anything, Dan’s mother opened her mouth to speak, “Who are you?” with her words dragging one another in a slurred manner, and Phil figured that she had been drinking. 

“I’m, uh, Phil? Phil Lester. I’m one of Dan’s former classmates?” Phil said, trying his best to smile politely and remain calm in front of her. “I just wanted to check up on him..Because I didn’t get to see him at graduation.” He continued, lying of course and unsure of his words or of the effect they had. 

“You want to check up on  _ Dan? _ ” She asked and scoffed, rolling her eyes before she crossed her arms over her chest, and Phil could tell she wasn’t very keen on her son. “Dan never mentioned you.”

“I-I know, but we used to talk sometimes at school. We aren’t, uh, close but I was wondering if he’d want to do something because I’m traveling soon and trying to get with everyone- Can I talk to him? I won’t take long.” His mother looked Phil up and down, and he hoped that she’d overlook his appearance and let him in. “Please?” 

“Fine. No longer than ten minutes and then you leave.” 

“Thank you.”

Phil felt his heart racing as he was let inside Dan’s home, seeing papers scattered and a mess anywhere he laid his eyes on, but his goal was to get to Dan, and so as his mother left to sit on the couch, he made his way to the only room with the door shut and knocked, pressing his ear to it to hear for any signs. 

He was afraid, but he needed to do this. 

“Dan?” He said, his voice low but loud enough for him to hear behind the door. “It’s Phil. Please let me in.. I only have ten minutes.”

If Dan hadn’t been intoxicated by the now almost empty bottle of alcohol, he would’ve panicked the second he realised that it was Phil who waited behind the locked door. That the black haired boy had seen his mum, heard her slurred voice and entered what Dan called his hell instead of home. But his mind was hazy and couldn’t care about the mess Phil had seen and was about to see.

So Dan heaved himself up from the wooden floor, his arm aching with pain and it felt like the fresh cuts that were covered in almost dried blood, ripped open once again. And for a second he just stood there in the dark, wishing he could just ignore the knocks and the quiet begs. Ignoring Phil like he’d ignored Dan’s calls and if Dan had been mad it would’ve been easier. He would’ve yelled through the closed door, told him to leave, to leave him alone laying on the floor as regret and guilt cut his skin open a second time that day. But he wasn’t angry, there was no wildfire churning in his veins, just the numb dullness that took over when the tears of breakdowns had dried.

He didn’t know what to feel and he didn’t know if he even could, now that he was drunk and stumbling a few steps to reach the door. Praying that ten minutes had somehow already passed, that he didn’t need to face Phil when he was such a mess. That he didn’t need to hear whatever Phil had to say, what excuse he had for ignoring Dan’s pathetic attempts to get help. He didn’t want to hear him say the words burden or annoying, didn’t want to see him roll his eyes when he noticed the state Dan was in.

But Dan still cared, still wanted to hear his voice, wanted to look into Phil’s eyes and beg him to make things okay again. Rewind the past hours, make the blood and it’s source disappear and replace the bottle by his lips on Dan’s. He wanted to sleep, wanted to lay in Phil’s bed and feel safe in a home that wasn’t his just by feeling Phil’s warmth seep into his skin. He wanted doubt and hesitation instead of the certainty his mind made up, wanted to get used to love and not to loneliness. 

He reached for the key and twisted it with shaking fingers as the familiar click resounded and the door opened. And there was Phil, with ruffled hair and wrinkled clothes that hung off his body like they weren’t his own. His soft lips were stretched into small smile that didn’t quite reach his blue eyes. They were lit with sadness and concern, making Dan’s heart feel a little heavier than before. For a few moments he just stared at him, at the sweat glistening on his forehead and the panic written on his face, before he parted his lips to break the silence that he wanted to last forever.

“Why are you here?” He croaked as his breath was caught in his deflated lungs and his voice dragged by the alcohol in his blood.

“I got your messages and when I called you back and you didn’t answer I got worried and-” Phil began, scanning Dan’s miserable appearance until his eyes halted at the sight of a dark red stain on the fabric of the boy’s pullover that covered his arm. He stepped closer and shut the door quietly behind himself as the concern in his eyes grew with every passing second.  “What happened?”

But Dan didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to explain his need for self caused pain or the event that had lead him to that point. Phil didn’t care, he didn’t need to know how fucked up Dan’s life was. How his mum had spent the past years drowning in alcohol, blaming her son for everything that went wrong in her life and how Dan did the same. How drinking became a coping mechanism and cutting a relief to the frustration Dan couldn’t let out on anyone. He didn’t keep it a secret, but he didn’t let it leave his lips either. 

“Nothing.” And it was nothing, nothing that hadn’t happened before, nothing special. They fought, they yelled and in the aftermath of all of that the silence seemed so deafening that Dan needed something to scream for him. 

“No Dan, it’s not nothing, it’s-” Phil wrapped his arms around Dan’s shoulders and pulled him close, trying to hold together what had been shattered. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, I’m so, so sorry.”

And it hurt. It hurt to hear Phil apologise for something that had made Dan break down in tears, because he would still forgive him. It was easy to forgive Phil when his body was pressed against Dan’s and the warmth he’d been missing the past hours crawled right through his clothes into his skin.

“But why didn’t you answer?” The tears Dan thought had been used up, now blurred his vision once again and made his lip tremble with sadness. With fear of what Phil could answer, what had made him ignore Dan’s calls, what had needed blood and alcohol to be bearable. 

“I got into some things with my parents. I’m sorry.” His grip tightened and Dan just wanted to melt into his arms, into his touch and make the word fade away for a little while. He cursed his mind for saying that Phil hated him, when he didn’t. When he’d been caught in something as well instead of laughing over Dan’s dependency on him. 

“I thought you didn’t like me anymore. I thought I was alone again.” A quiet sob heaved through Dan’s body and the first tears dripped onto his skin. He didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to show how much he hurt, how much Phil could make him break. 

Phil pulled away from the hug, leaving his hands on Dan’s shoulders as his eyes locked with Dan’s. It wasn’t pity that flooded the blue, maybe guilt and maybe a little bit of both. A combination Dan despised, he didn’t want pity for something that his mind had done to himself, for something so unnecessary. Even if it had tortured him so badly. 

“No, no I will always like you.” Phil’s hands wandered up to cup Dan’s face, gently wiping away the tears that rolled down his cheeks and the simple touch eased the pain that had settled inside him a little. “Tell me what happened lovely.”

But Dan still didn’t want those words to leave his lips. He didn’t want to open up, didn’t want to endure the silence that came afterwards or the sorry’s, that didn’t need to be said. He just wanted Phil to make him forget what happened, not reflect on it. 

“You look so tired Phil.” Dan whispered and hates himself a little more for burdening Phil once again with his pathetic problems, when he seemed so exhausted. 

“I’m okay. You’re what matters now, not me. Just talk to me.”

“I’m- I’m okay as well.” He wasn’t. He was drunk and the wounds on his arms had barely stopped bleeding. But he wasn’t the kind of person that spoke about what was going on inside his head, what had caused him to break down in the early evening after a day of flirtful banter, subtle touches and lazy kisses. 

But Phil just shook his head as he pushed the messy curls out of Dan’s face. “Do you want to lay down?” 

And Dan nodded, allowing Phil to lead him towards his bed that had sheets halfway onto the floor before he slowly laid down, staring out into nothing as he did so. 

Phil laid down beside him, making sure he held him close against his chest and putting one arm around him as he carefully ran his fingers through Dan’s hair, thinking of something to say in the silence. His eyes would occasionally glance down onto the sleeve that was painted with red and guilt would immediately fill up his lungs. 

Because if he had answered, this wouldn’t have happened. If he answered, Dan’s skin wouldn’t be torn open and maybe the damage wouldn’t have been so great. And if he answered, maybe the strong scent of liquor wouldn’t be so intense that he felt as if the liquid itself had actually been slithering down his throat and scorching it along its way. 

“I know you don’t wanna talk..” Phil whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of Dan’s ear as he spoke, “But know you can tell me anything. No matter how bad.” He continued, hearing Dan hum in response and feeling more of a pressure on his chest as Dan sunk into Phil. 

And sure, maybe Dan could tell Phil anything. 

But was it guaranteed that Phil would always be there to listen?

Was it guaranteed after Phil said he’d answer but never did?

No.

Of course not.

And he felt absolutely horrible for it. He said he would be there and he failed to keep that true. He failed to keep it true when whenever he asked Dan if he’d answer, and Dan said he would, the other boy kept his saying. But Phil couldn’t return the favour for some reason.

Actually, he knew the exact reason.  

What kind of friend was he?

Or boyfriend..

He still didn’t know what they were, and that confused him even more.

Should he even feel guilt then? If he and Dan weren’t even together to begin with? 

Should Dan have the right to become upset then if he were to find out? To hate Phil?

Sure. 

Of course he did. 

Dan had every right to punch Phil straight across the bridge of his nose because in the end, Phil deserved it. 

He could’ve been a better friend.

But he wasn’t.

He could’ve prevented the brown stains on Dan’s sleeve to a certain extent.

But he didn’t.

He could’ve stayed loyal to how he felt towards Dan. To have saved his shattered body for him even if he never predicted that they’d meet.

And yet, Phil continued his actions of going inside strangers’ cars and giving in to threats made by others even after the two acknowledged the other’s existence. 

But Phil had enough time to fight with himself after he’d gone back home. For now, he had to focus on the boy who laid in his arms, curled up against Phil’s body and Phil’s other arm over him

“Okay lovely,” He began, attempting to have a look at Dan’s current expression but didn’t manage to see it, “I’m gonna ramble to distract you, and you can either listen or not. If you do end up listening at one point, I hope it helps in any way.” He continued as he brushed Dan’s hair, thinking of a story or something random to tell him at the same time, and he heard a hushed “okay” leave Dan’s lips.

“When you asked me why we weren’t friends at school earlier, it got me thinking.” He started, his voice low and Dan didn’t move at all. “Sure, it might’ve been fear, but I think if we managed to actually talk to each other, we would’ve been really good friends.” He continued, his fingers still entrapped in Dan’s curls. “I mean, could you imagine ten year old us pumpkin carving together during Halloween? I’m pretty sure that would’ve been really dangerous though, knowing that we would be young and I’m really clumsy so I’d end up carving out my own eye by accident, but it would’ve been fun too. Or trick-or-treating together, even though I’ve actually only done that maybe once or twice. You’d look really cute in a costume.”

“I wouldn’t.” He heard Dan mumble quietly as soon as Phil finished his sentence. 

“You would. Of course you would.”

Dan stayed silent.

“Remember when we were at school and you played the piano for me?” Phil added, and Dan nodded in response, turning his head a little towards Phil as if he were intrigued. 

“You cried.” Dan croaked as his voice attempted to go higher than a whisper, furrowing his eyebrows a little as he looked up at Phil as much as he could. 

Phil nodded and tilted his head, smiling very faintly. “Do you want to know why?” He asked, brushing a curl out of Dan’s face once again as it fell in front of his eye as he adjusted himself in Phil’s arms. 

Dan frowned, looking away from him for a moment and Phil wondered what he was thinking. He was such a quiet individual, yet so outspoken at the same time. Silently outspoken if that made any sense. “I don’t know.” He finally said, picking at the colour on his sleeve that didn’t belong on the fabric. 

Phil placed his hand over Dan’s to stop him from touching the area, and instead the two held hands. For a second, he felt a pain surge through his body but he ignored it because he was sure it was emotional pain than physical. “Why not?”

“What if it’s for a bad reason?”

He shook his head, and Dan looked back up at him seeming like he didn’t believe it. “It’s not.”

“Okay.”

Phil let out a soft sigh, regaining his thoughts that got lost for a second, his thumb rubbing over Dan’s hand. “When I was younger and, you know, struggling and whatever at school, nothing brought me comfort except for one thing: the music coming from a piano. Back then, every time I’d cry I’d hear it and I’d calm down, and I felt as if the piano was playing for me, even though I knew that wasn’t the case. Sometimes I was even afraid that if I didn’t cry I wouldn’t be able to hear it, which is stupid? But you know.” He chuckled a little before continuing. “I always wanted to go see who was playing and thank them. But I didn’t because I was afraid that they’d just laugh at me like the rest and spread rumours like how they always did.” He shrugged, but then he looked down at Dan who seemed so lost in Phil’s eyes as he stared into them, waiting for whatever Phil had to say next. “And then when you played, it was the same melody as the one I used to hear all the time. And that’s just more proof that we could’ve been friends earlier, though there was always something stopping it from happening. If you hadn’t saved me, that would’ve stopped it and we wouldn’t have been friends.” Phil said, scanning over the boy’s expression. “But we’re friends now. Yes, maybe we could’ve carved pumpkins, and I could’ve sat beside you a thousand times as you played the piano if I stepped up and came up to you, but the fact that we could’ve doesn’t change the fact that we still can. We will. And this time I’ll have a lesser chance of carving out my eye since I’m older, or maybe a greater chance since I’m possibly even more clumsy. We’ll see.” He smiled, and he saw just the smallest of curls at the corner of Dan’s mouth.

He hoped things would be okay for the boy in front of him. He wanted and needed them to be, because he deserved none of the hurt he received.  

And maybe Phil couldn’t take all the pain away, but if he could take just a little, then for now that would be enough. 

Dan turned in Phil’s arms and Phil laid down on the pillow so that they faced each other properly. Dan’s skin ached with pain while the alcohol in his blood began to make him feel a bit nauseous, but he just ignored it.

“Thank you.” He said softly, not only thanking Phil for trying to distract him, but for coming over, for holding him in his arms and for not suddenly deciding to ignore and hate him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t answer your texts and calls immediately.” Phil’s voice was heavy with guilt and Dan just wanted to rewind the past hours, wait patiently for the familiar sound of a text message instead of staining his sweater with alcohol and blood. 

“I know, it’s okay. I’m sorry as well” And he was, Dan was sorry for breaking so easily, for being weak and drunk and so in love with the boy in front of him. 

He wished he wasn’t. He wished he liked Phil as much as any person would after five days. He wished love at first sight was just a stupid tool in books to speed up the pace of a romance, but it wasn’t. He liked Phil a little too much, a little too fast. 

“For what?” 

“For this.” For making him worry, for making him run over to the building and knock on the door of a flat filled with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol. Two things Dan despised more than the reflection of himself, two things that made him gag at the taste and the thought of what they’d done to his mum, to his life and himself, but somehow, he still couldn’t escape. Couldn’t escape the addiction and the effect they had on him. The warmth of smoke and the thought drowning liquor. 

But now he had Phil. His words and his warmth and Dan wished he was as familiar as the two drugs, but Phil hadn’t accompanied him his whole life. Maybe someday he could replace it, be the only thing Dan craved, but until then he was whatever he was to Dan and they were whatever they were. 

Phil placed his hand below Dan’s ear and brushed his thumb over his cheek. “Don’t apologise for this, you needed me and I wasn’t there, it’s not your fault.” 

Dan just nodded as a response, still frustrated about the intensity of his feelings and the drama he caused while Phil had to deal with his own problems. He didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want to depend on Phil and his soothing, when he was in the need of being held himself. But Phil didn’t seem to think about that in those seconds. He just edged a little closer and tilted his head, until Dan pressed his hand against his chest to push him away. 

“I smell like I just drank half a bottle of vodka, because I did, so don’t.” He said quietly. He didn’t want Phil to get used to the taste of alcohol on his lips and he also didn’t know how much he could trust himself when alcohol hazed his already love drunken mind. 

Phil drew his eyebrows together in confusion.”I don’t care.”

“And you need to go home to pack your stuff.” Dan added, assuming that it was already dark outside and that Phil hadn’t touched any of his stuff yet.

“I don’t want to leave you alone tonight.”

Dan’s heart fluttered at the words that left Phil’s lips, but it would only cause Phil more trouble if he stayed. He looked tired and exhausted and it would probably be the last time that he could sleep in his own room. 

“It’s okay love, I’m okay.” He smiled a little to reassure Phil as the concern grew in his eyes. 

“Are you sure?” His eyes wandered down to the darkened red on Dan’s sweater, still not knowing what exactly had made him do it, what had made him call and text repeatedly. 

“Yeah.” Dan was okay now, tired and as okay as he could be with Phil’s warmth encasing him, even if his skin was still torn and his heart still a little shattered. 

He would just fall asleep after a while, the alcohol in his blood slowly breaking down and the blood on his skin drying until he would wash it off in the morning as if it’d never happened. Just another set of scars that wouldn’t stand out in the mass, unnecessary but also needed to be added. 

“Okay.” Phil said, not making any attempt on standing up yet, running his fingers slowly through the messy curls while Dan’s eyelids seemed to get heavier. 

He didn’t want Phil to leave, didn’t want to be cold and alone, but he knew that he wouldn’t have to feel that way for too long. He would pick Phil up the next day and they’d look at the cheap flat he’d chosen and not because they’d move in together, but because whatever they were meant that Phil wanted Dan to be with him. And that made Phil leaving for now okay, because it was just for now. Just temporarily, just for the night. 

So after a while the silence that had filled the room for Phil to watch Dan doze off, got disrupted by the sound of him sitting up on his knees. And before Dan could get up as well he put his hand on his shoulder. 

“You don’t need to get up” Phil said softly, leaning down. “Goodnight lovely.” He pressed his lips on Dan’s cheekbone, getting a sleepy “Goodnight” in return, before he hesitantly stood up. 

Though before leaving, Phil took one last glance at an exhausted Dan who had seemingly already fallen asleep, having his face squished against the pillow and the curls that Phil had just brushed out of his face back in front of his closed eyes, and he smiled sadly to himself at how calm Dan looked despite the anxiety that was most likely surging throughout his entire body. 

He left Dan’s apartment with no interruptions as his mom had passed out on the couch in front of a static-filled screen, her inanimate fingers grazing the finish of a wine bottle that stood upright on the wooden floor beneath her. 

As he closed the door behind him, quickly scanning the hallway ahead of him before he began walking, he was body-slammed with guilt.

First, he didn’t reply to Dan.

Second, he lied to Dan.

And third, he left Dan. 

And he felt absolutely horrible for it. 

So, so horrible. 

But now he was going to do his best to be there for him so that whenever he called, Phil would always answer and Dan wouldn’t have to be alone. Plus, he was going to have an apartment of his own, meaning Dan could come over whenever he wanted and they wouldn’t have to worry about his father coming in or bothering them with that familiar yelling. 

He wanted to make it okay for Dan more than he wanted it to be for himself, and he was prepared to do anything to let that happen. 

Maybe he’d even stop his current job and find a new one so he wouldn’t have to lie to Dan anymore. 

He told himself that that was the last time he’d lie to Dan too - he didn’t deserve to be lied to, but it was the best thing to do at the time. 

Soon enough, Phil stood in front of his current apartment door, dreading that he’d have to run to his room as fast as he could since he didn’t know where his dad was at the time and the fact that he’d have to deal with his dad in general. But as he reached in for his keys, he realized he was grabbing at nothing, and that’s when his heart sunk to the floor. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me..” He muttered frustratedly, digging in his other pocket in search for the keys. 

And to his luck, he lost them. 

Where did he even leave them? That guy’s house probably. Damn it. 

Now he was forced to make contact with his parents. 

With a long sigh, he rang his doorbell, preparing himself mentally for the worst. Anxiety grew as he heard footsteps approaching the door and he felt himself claw at his skin as he already felt the pain that was bound to happen. 

The door swung open, and the first thing he was greeted with was a look of disgust from his father and a “What are you doing here?” said with venom that dripped from the words as he blocked the entrance for Phil who was having a hard time maintaining eye contact due to fear that he could never convince himself to get over. 

“I need to pack.” Phil mumbled, bringing his eyes up to find his dad’s eyes boring into his and immediately looked away, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. 

His father remained quiet, looking at him and scanning his messy appearance from head to toe. “You look sickening.” He suddenly stated, and the disappointment was so clear in his tone that Phil felt nauseous. 

It was just a couple hours until he was gone. 

Just a couple hours until he could leave everything behind. 

“Okay.” Phil said, sighing a little, but just as he was going to continue his sentence, he was interrupted by his father who took a step closer to him causing Phil to immediately tense up, already tasting blood in his mouth. 

“Where were you?” His father asked, and Phil could smell the wooden scent of cigar in his breath at how close he stood to him. “Who said you were allowed to leave?”

“I- Just- Please let me go in.” He whispered, letting out a shaky breath while his eyes focused on the carpet underneath him. 

“Why should I?” His father growled, and as predicted, he pushed Phil back so that he fell against the wall behind them.

Phil’s breath stopped for a second at the unexpected intensity of the push, having his eyebrows furrowed together. 

He wasn’t going to cry. 

He was done crying. 

“Because I’m your fucking only son and you’re kicking me out. I’m leaving. I found an apartment and I want to go pack my fucking bags. Let me go inside and pack my bags and you won’t see me in the morning. This violence is unnecessary. It hurts, and I’m tired of it. Get out of my way, and you can forget about me from the second I step foot in the house because I’ll be gone as soon as possible and you can finally be happy. I’m so tired, dad. I’m tired of you and of myself. Let me spend my last couple hours here without having to clean up blood spilled by your hands.” 

And to Phil’s ultimate surprise, his father moved to the left, clearing a path straight to the door. 

But it wasn’t all nice. He wasn’t let go that easily, because his father had a couple last words that would stick with Phil like everything else. “I hope you know how fucking pathetic you are. I would’ve rather had any other child than you, Phil. Someone stronger than you, someone more useful than you-”

“I am useful.” Phil interrupted, and he wished he would’ve kept his mouth quiet.

His father scoffed, rolling his eyes and tilting his head. “In what fucking way? Escorting?”

Phil felt acid shoot up his throat at what his father mentioned and he had to close his eyes for a second to regain his being. 

_ Fuck you. _

“And being your fucking punching bag for eighteen years.” 

His father’s hand cracked across Phil’s face, snapping it back with the force of his blow and causing his head to reel sickeningly as it slammed into the wall behind him. With black dots covering his vision, he placed his hand over the area where a red welt was left behind, and felt the stinging of a fresh cut that had been formed right below his eye. 

But it was fine. 

He was leaving tomorrow.

He didn’t care and he wasn’t going to cry. 

So with utmost silence, he simply walked past his father, ignoring the pain the spread heat across his skin. 

And so he made his way into his room, shutting the door with an unintentionally loud slam before he reached underneath his bed and pulled out a suitcase that wasn’t that big, but big enough for the clothes and clutter he had. 

He found himself packing as fast as he could, almost eager to leave and maybe even a little bit excited because he was finally getting out of this hellhole. He could finally have something good in his life and maybe things wouldn’t be so bad from now on. 

But even if he was excited, he was also angry. Angry because he wanted to leave so badly. Angry that he had to leave when he wasn’t taught how to survive yet. Angry because he wasn’t going to have his parents stand by him at the door of his new flat like any other person. Angry at the cut below his eye and angry at the leftover bruises on his face and body and scars that decorated his skin and mind. He was just so fucking angry at everything and everyone. 

But it was okay. 

Scars heal eventually into reminders of what once was but not of what it is.

Right.

And it was okay because he had Dan now. 

Loneliness was no longer guaranteed, and now he had a reason to smile.

A reason to be alive when all his life he questioned what it was actually like to be since all he thought of was closing his eyes and never waking up.

They both needed each other, they were both dependant on each other. Knowing that they now had a number on their phone that would pick up and not click the end button.

Phil zipped the bag up, exhaling as he let out a breath while he set the bag against the door, waiting to be grabbed and taken to never return. 

And for the last time, he wrapped himself up in his sheets, closing his eyes to confirm the last sleep in the room he spent his entire life in. 

He needed Dan, and Dan needed him. 

So maybe, for that to work he had to forget himself in order to be what Dan needed because whether he liked it or not, it was clear that he’d fallen in love with him. With his sadness and his smiles and the tears that poured down his face and stained his freckled cheeks. With his ruffled curls and the way he slept and the warmth he radiated. 

With him, that was it. 

So then maybe that’s what it meant to be alive. 


	13. Chapter 13

The morning tasted like the aftermath of pure, bitter alcohol and two cigarettes smoked as water dripped from damp curls and fast steps echoed through the empty streets. He wasn’t late, but he wasn’t early either. One hand cupping his phone, thumb flying over the keyboard while he typed an explanation and an apology for forgetting the appointment they had. The other hand fiddling with the empty cigarette package in his pocket. 

Dan had woken up in a haze, uncertain of what had happened the evening before as nausea clawed at his throat and drove him right into the bathroom. He’d kneeled on the cold tiles for a while, not trusting his own legs to hold his weight, before he got up and stepped into the shower.  And as the fog in his head faded, the pain became more apparent. Everything burnt, his insides and his skin and with every movement of his body it just got worse. Healing, ripping and bleeding cuts, burning under the water washing away the stains, clearing his mind and making him realise how unnecessary his breakdown had been. 

How pathetic it was to call Phil, text him until Dan falsely believed that he’d been left alone in a situation that would occur a thousand times more. Until he laid in bed instead of on the floor, with Phil’s arms around him and his lips near his ear, quietly debunking the irrational thoughts in Dan’s intoxicated mind. 

But he couldn’t take it back, it was the late morning and before Dan could’ve collapsed on his bed, missing the scent of oceans and radiating warmth, he picked up his phone. The white numbers on the screen switched to 11:49 as a third message from Phil popped up. 

“Good morning, are you feeling any better?”

“Can you be here at 12? It’s fine if you can’t, I can go alone”

“Are you okay?” 

And with that Dan remembered that he was supposed to pick Phil up at noon to look at one of the flats with him. He couldn’t bail on him, even though the past evening throbbed in his head and the sickness painted his skin in a greenish white colour. Phil had showed up even though he didn’t have to, even though he looked so exhausted and broken. All Dan could think of was that look on his pretty face. The look that was shortly after followed by tears and Dan’s unbearable worry. Worry that pulled Phil into his arms and drew their lips together.

So he threw on a presentable black sweater and a pair of black jeans before rushing past his mum and down the stairs. Ignoring whatever his body’s response was to the fast movement, because he didn’t want to be the reason for that desperate and hopeless look to appear on Phil’s face. 

Even though he was sure that look laced with disappointment would surface anyways as soon as Phil would see the mess Dan was or hear the still apparent slur in his voice. Because Dan failed once again. He’d failed staying sober, failed keeping his lips from tasting bitter and failed not being like his mum. Drinking when the world became a little too loud, when the thoughts needed to be filtered through a mist or the craving for something else than the painful reality became too much to suppress. 

As much as he despised the disgusting liquor that he’d chugged in the mess of emotions or the hangover that followed in the morning, he knew that there was another glass bottle under his bed and he knew it wouldn’t linger there for long. He wished he could toss it against a wall like his mother did, but neither of them would waste the opportunity to get drunk. Even during the worst fights there’d never been stains of wine or any other alcohol splattered on the walls or floor, she always reached for the empty ones first. 

Addicted to the every single drop.

But Dan wasn’t dependent on it, he knew he could be sober for a while, he just chose not to be. And even as he rushed towards Phil’s apartment building, he wished for a bit more than the pathetic trace of alcohol in his system to get him through the day. 

Something to numb the anxiety when he arrived at the front door. Something to give him a bit more confidence when he texted Phil that he was there. Something to drown the doubt when he didn’t lean in for a kiss and just said “hey”, because maybe Phil had changed his mind. 

Maybe he didn’t like kissing Dan anymore, maybe he was disgusted by the bitter taste of his lips or just annoyed by the unreliable, unstable and whiny mess Dan was. Because what were they? Nothing committed, nothing said out loud, nothing but a fragile promise. And Dan always failed at keeping promises. 

But Phil smiled when he saw him, not a lot but enough for the corners of his lips to curl upwards and Dan’s heart to pump a little faster. 

“Hey.” There was a quick glance to each side before he got closer and his hand brushed past Dan’s skin to cup his face so effortlessly and gentle, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. And to some extent kissing Phil was the easiest thing in comparison to anything else, but just in that very moment when their lips connected and every negative thought in Dan’s mind got lost in a haze alcohol could never create. When he got so lightheaded that he would’ve passed out if his hand hadn’t found it’s place in the fabric of Phil’s shirt. In these seconds everything was easy. 

But it didn’t last long enough for the doubt to never come back or the anxiety to stay quiet. So they pulled away and the hand on Dan’s cheek disappeared, taking it’s warmth with it. 

“I’m so sorry for being late, I totally forgot.” Dan apologised, the fist his hand had formed around the material slowly opening up before falling limp to his side. 

“It’s fine, you’re not late.” Phil began, his eyes wandering up and down Dan’s face, following what had dripped from the brown curls and trailed down Dan’s forehead. “Are you okay?”

Dan wiped away the droplet, pushing his hair up a little. “Yeah, yeah I just woke up late and I- I felt a bit sick.”

“Hungover?” The word didn’t seep with acid like it should have. It wasn’t laced with disappointment, even though Dan could still make it out, just concern. 

So he just nodded as his arms crossed in front of his chest and the tree a few feet away was easier to look at than Phil’s eyes. 

“Are you sure that you want to come with me? I can walk you back home so you can rest.”

“No, I’m okay.” His teeth grinded over his lower lip and he hoped Phil couldn’t see the world spinning in his eyes or the weakness in his legs. Dan couldn’t let his stupid habit of drinking and breaking down ruin Phil’s plans. He just had to push through the dizziness and nausea for a few hours and then he could collapse on his bed and sleep. 

“Your hair is still wet.” Phil stated, the corner of his lips curling upwards as his hand pushed the slipped down curls back again. “But if they ask, just blame it on the weather.”

“It’s not raining.” Dan tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. 

“Shhh..” He smiled as he brought his finger up to his lips. “Don’t debunk my ideas.”

“It’ll dry on the way you dumbass.”

Phil gasped dramatically and looked overly offended. “Stop being so mean to me.”

“Then stop acting stupid.” He would’ve cupped Phil’s face or at least teasingly leaned in if they hadn’t been outside where everyone could see them.

But another car drove by and reminded Dan that they weren’t alone in this universe.

“I thought you always wanted a stupid boyfriend” Phil grinned before he realised what he’d said and Dan’s smile disappeared. 

Phil wasn’t his boyfriend. 

“I don’t.” Dan blurted and wished for the ground beneath him to open up and swallow him whole before he could see the hurt in Phil’s eyes, but unfortunately the laws of physics worked against him.

Instead Phil just awkwardly huffed out a laugh and pulled out his phone to look at the time. “I think we need to go now.”

And Dan nodded before his teeth bit down on his lower lip again. 

He didn’t know why it made him panic. Why it made him want to deny it immediately, when it was just a joke. And now he’d basically said that he didn’t want Phil to be his boyfriend

But he didn’t know if he did. They already acted like a couple, they kissed each other almost casually and the night before Phil had held him while they were lying in bed. But they weren’t committed and Phil couldn’t call Dan his boyfriend because he wasn’t. 

So he left some space between them as they walked and asked himself if being together was even an option. If it was worth it when it would cause more damage than good because love hurts more than friendship.

If having a boyfriend would be reason enough to stay and if he even wanted a reason to stay when everything else kept falling apart and the urge to die was deeper than the desire to live. 

And somehow Dan was angry that they were so dependant on each other, that they needed each other so desperately already, that unanswered calls could end it cuts and alcohol. Even if he was sure that Phil didn’t need him equally as much, he knew that he couldn’t just leave the black haired boy without breaking him a little more. And he hated himself for falling in love with someone he cared about, someone he didn’t dare to hurt. Although he probably just did. 

He wanted to ask him why the word  _ boyfriend  _ had slipped out, why Phil even liked him, why he kissed him when he was such a mess, when his life was a wreck that was just waiting to dissolve. Why he needed him to stay and why he couldn’t just hate him for being a burden, for tasting like liquor and smoke. Because Dan would rather have a reason to die than a reason to stay alive and his mind was torn. 

He wanted to apologise for his mindless response, but he couldn’t bring his lips to form the words when he didn’t know if he’d meant it or not. He didn’t know what to do and maybe it was better if he did nothing. 

So he just kept walking, ignoring the nausea and dizziness equally as the guilt and the urge to wrap his hand around Phil’s. 

And Phil didn’t know exactly how to respond when his mind simply went into a mumbled “Oh”, and his expression equally neutral. He didn’t know whether or not he was the one in the wrong, when the words “I don’t” kept repeating themselves in his head. Whether it was simply the fact that Dan didn’t feel the same way about him anymore, or that it was the leftover alcohol in his blood that drove him to say those words. He couldn’t help but ask himself why Dan would say something like that, afraid to ask the boy next to him in case the answer he got was the answer he hoped it wouldn’t be. 

Maybe it was Phil’s fault then. Maybe he should’ve answered Dan’s calls, and maybe he shouldn’t have joked around when Dan looked so terribly tired. Maybe he should’ve just took Dan home and not dragged him along to a low-quality flat when he could’ve just let him take the day to rest. 

So maybe Dan was just fed up with the words that came from Phil that masked lies and just found the right moment to tell Phil off, to make it clear that Phil was not Dan’s boyfriend, and maybe now he could never be?

He folded his arms over his chest, stealing a couple glances at Dan but terrified to make eye contact and deal with a look that was the complete opposite of the ones they shared on cigarette-scented mattresses. And he felt such a strong urge to apologize himself despite what he did or didn’t do, despite whether there was a reason or not.

And yet he didn’t, because he didn’t want them to end up walking in separate directions only to never speak to or see each other again. So then again, maybe it was better to say nothing. 

The space between them felt so incredibly forced as they sat on the cold, plastic seats of the train that had an engine way too loud which had seemingly distracted Phil from the fact that they had sat with a seat in between them, having the excuse of the fact that the seat was “dirty” being said and Phil only smiled and nodded as a response. 

So then maybe it was just the best decision that Phil kept his distance from Dan for now. To just stop easily kissing him and holding him like how couples did because they weren’t a couple, and to stop loving him so much when for now they were just “friends”. And he wished it was easy to turn his feelings off with the press of a button, that it was easy to just consider him as an actual friend and nothing more. But how could he when every time they spoke or he got the chance to look at him or feel his warmth against his skin, he’d simply fall for him even harder?

How could he even fall for someone so hard when it was barely a week that they’ve known each other for? When before that week they were just “Dan” and just “Phil”, but now those names had more of a meaning than they were meant to have.  

“How long until we get there?” Asked Dan, breaking the silence that had lasted for perhaps way too long. But Dan never looked at Phil, his tone bored into Phil’s mind, and his expression remained unfazed. 

Phil gulped down the anxiety that had formed in his mouth, desperate to ignore his current question and go back to half an hour ago and ask him the questions instead, but instead he looked down from Dan to the map on his phone as they now walked on the sidewalks of an unfamiliar street. “Five minutes.” He replied, his eyebrows furrowed as he raised his eyes back up to him, and for less than a millisecond, their eyes met. 

The two continued walking, not hand in hand and not sharing anymore conversation, and it was so painful because all he wanted to  _ do  _ was talk to him. And he didn’t even have to wait for Dan to start speaking, he could just start a random topic and endure the possibly dry responses he would receive.

But he didn’t know which would hurt more, and so he remained silent and said nothing. 

It felt like years after they finally arrived, and now the pair stood in front of a building they had only once seen through the laptop screen. Suddenly, it seemed as if reality felt way too real. That soon enough, this would be his home, and that he would finally be away from the place that only gave him horrible experiences. 

That he would start a new life. 

Not with Dan though, because Phil wasn’t Dan’s and Dan wasn’t Phil’s. 

His own life, and control would finally be an option. 

“It looks alright, doesn’t it?” He heard Dan speak to him once again, but this time Dan was looking at him with a tilted head. 

“Yeah..” Phil muttered, unable to conjure a sentence of his actual emotions. He instead just stared into the lobby in front of him, scanning over everything before he turned to meet Dan’s eyes. “It’s a bit weird isn’t it?” 

“You’ll get used to it.” Dan responded, and his lips curled up into a reassuring smile but his eyes were empty as they perforated into Phil’s, giving him such an uneasy feeling and his urgent questions had begun to numb Phil’s tongue, wanting to be perilously asked but forced to never be said. 

Phil nervously nodded, and they began to walk towards the entrance. As Dan walked in first, Phil closely followed him and unconsciously led him forwards by sliding his arm around his waist. But Dan looked at him worriedly and he realized how much he wasn’t allowing himself to cause distance between them. So he quickly pulled his arm back and let out a hushed “Sorry” before he awkwardly moved away from him. 

He didn’t allow Dan to give him any sort of response, and just directly went into the lobby that had only contained a few people. After he had asked for the landlord of the building and apologized for being late, the three made their way up to the flat that was put up for rent. The process was confusing, surely, as Phil was told about several things that he had once not cared about, but now it was all the information that he had to know. 

The flat itself was not that horrible. It seemed functional and proper, and big enough for a person to live in. Though he discovered that the walls were thin, as when they were viewing the kitchen he was able to hear a muffled conversation happening on the other side of the wall, and Phil wondered how his neighbours were like. 

Thankfully though, the price of the rent for the first time was negotiable, although he was only able to bring it down to £500, but it seemed reasonable enough considering its original price. However, the second month of rent would have to go back up to £750 which made Phil panic, but he’d have to deal with that then. 

Of course it was all too overwhelming, but whether or not he had to move out and it wasn’t even his choice. And so, he forced himself to accept the fact that this was where he’d spend his life from now on, and maybe like Dan said, he’d get used to it quicker than he expected and it wouldn’t be so bad anymore. 

After Phil had everything explained to him, he was informed that the landlord had to leave temporarily, leaving Dan and Phil in the middle of the living room. 

For the whole time, Dan had been quiet, and Phil wasn’t really expecting him to say anything really.  

“Do you think there are any cockroaches in here?” Phil asked him with his eyebrows drawn together, and at the same time he was joking and serious. He didn’t want to have to deal with a bug that would scurry right by his feet or else he was pretty sure he would never step foot in the apartment ever again.

And for now, all the information he had received had distracted him from the awkwardness between them, so he was able to look at Dan whose arms had been folded across his chest with a small smile curling the corner of his mouth. 

“At least you’d have some company.” He said with a quiet chuckle, hoping to get over the awkwardness that had been following them around, leaving some space between them that Dan just wanted to minimise more and more with every passing second but the doubt that had brought them into the situation didn’t let him get closer. 

And instead of answering in some flirtatious tone Dan could roll his eyes to, Phil just parted his lips to close them again. The doubt not allowing him to say what was on the tip of his tongue and he just smiled. “Yeah.”  

With that the off white walls became more interesting than the conversation they’d tried to start and the uncomfortable silence more bearable than forced answers and polite smiles. But it wasn’t, it was frustrating and Dan just wanted to do anything that wasn’t nothing.

So many times he’d started sentences, on the way to the train, when they sat on the plastic seats and when they walked through the entry of the building and Phil’s touch turned into something that he apologised for, but whenever he started to speak he lost his voice. 

He wanted to grab Phil’s hand and make jokes about moving in with him, but he’d said  _ I don’t _ and maybe now he couldn’t anymore. Maybe Phil had realised that they were in fact not a couple and friends don’t kiss each other, friends that don’t want to be in a relationship don’t flirt, don’t touch and don’t even look at each other. 

He had doubt and he had worries. He feared being trapped in life, feared having no exit out of his own suffering without hurting Phil on the way. And maybe he wanted Phil to yell. To be upset about Dan’s stupid answer and his uncertainty and leave him in that very moment. Leave him and give him another reason to kill himself. 

But at the same time he was so sure of Phil, so in love with him that he couldn’t help but feel hurt. Hurt by his toxic mind that made him so self destructive that it felt like someone else was trying to kill him. Trying to ruin the little good in his life, take everything that made him smile and control his words and body until death seemed like the better option. 

And all he wanted to do was apologise to Phil and himself. 

But he did nothing despite regretting what had happened. 

And sentences that he wished he could say out loud drowned in the silence between them. 

_ I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said- _

_ I didn’t mean-  _

Instead Dan remembered that they were looking at a flat and asked “What do you think?”, to which he met Phil’s eyes once again.

“It’s okay.” He answered dry and Dan wished he would’ve been too hungover to be there right now. “What do you think?”

“It’s- It’s not bad for the price I guess.” 

“No its not.” Everything Phil said sounded forced and every glance they shared lasted no more than a second and Dan was sure that Phil wished he would’ve been too hungover to pick him up as well. 

And for once Dan was glad that someone interrupted their conversation or whatever their awful small talk was. 

“So, what do you think?” The landlord asked as he returned, looking at them both and Dan cursed himself for asking the same basic questions as a stranger when things had been so easy just hours ago. 

But Phil didn’t give the same bored but cautious answer, just a polite “It’s nice” accompanied by a nod. 

“Good.” The guy looked down at the papers that he’d apparently got when he was away. “If you want to we can handle the paperwork now or when you’ve made a decision. 

Phil fidgeted with his fingers and turned his head to look at Dan for a brief moment and his urge to stop the awkwardness between them for just a few seconds was visible in his eyes. So Dan took a few steps forward, close enough for their shoulders to brush and Phil’s breathing to slow down a little. 

Dan could see that he was anxious and unsure about signing off a contract that would bound him to this empty flat, in this weird building without knowing if there were any cockroaches crawling around. Uncertain if he would be in there alone all day, without Dan visiting him because he didn’t want to be his boyfriend. 

And Dan felt responsible and guilty and awful, because he just wanted to grab Phil’s hands and feel his warm skin against his own that always felt so cold. He wanted to comfort Phil and let him know that everything would be okay. But he couldn’t keep sending off mixed signals and he couldn’t touch Phil in front of a stranger and couldn’t just show how much he wanted to do exactly that when his thoughts couldn’t shut up. 

“Now is fine.” Phil shifted his weight and their shoulders stopped brushing. Maybe Phil didn’t want Dan to be his boyfriend anymore and maybe getting what Dan’s toxic mind wanted hurt more than he’d thought. Causing him to take a step backwards as he watched Phil and the landlord go through the contract, talking about rents and rules. 

And shortly after they were out on the street again, encased by the cold november air and a forever lasting silence. Without any word Phil started walking and Dan followed him, feeling smaller and smaller with every step and he wished he was actually slowly fading away into nothing because all he wanted was to disappear before the consequences of slipped words made him jump in front of the train they were about to get on. 

But he kept being over 6 feet tall and his eyes kept darting to Phil, or the back of Phil’s head as he seemingly had given up on any kind of conversation or interaction and maybe he wouldn’t even notice if Dan just vanished right then and there. 

He really wanted to cry. He wanted to stop walking and start sobbing. Let his frustration pour out of his eyes in streams of tears but he couldn’t pause, because he needed to keep up with Phil. But his vision blurred anyways as his thoughts convinced him that he had ruined it. That he had ruined the past six days with two words and the future by holding back an apology. That whatever they had was better than dying even though he hated to admit it. 

But he kept looking to the ceiling of the overcrowded train, not allowing a single tear to fall because he was certain that once he’d started he would never be able to stop again. And he hated himself for overreacting so easily but Phil stood there holding onto the railing instead of sitting next to Dan when not even twentyfour hours ago he had held Dan close as he tried to distract him with lighthearted stories Dan couldn’t even remember now. And he felt like everything was lost, everything was lost and it felt so much worse than he’d expected when he never really had anything before. 

He tried to pull himself together and ignore the overwhelming desire to clutch the fabric of Phil’s shirt and pull him close. Kiss him and apologise before Phil was convinced that Dan didn’t love him and he was convinced that Phil had given up on him.

But the train stopped and they started walking once again. A few feets apart and with Dan’s eyes glued to the back of Phil’s head as if he was the one disappearing at every second. And once they’d made it through the small crowd of people waiting for their train to arrive, Phil turned around. They looked at each other but Phil didn’t really look at Dan. 

“You don’t have to walk me home.” Phil mumbled before Dan could even part his lips and close them again. And he knew that  _ you don’t have to _ meant  _ please don’t _ . 

“Okay.” Dan’s heart sunk that he thought he could feel it shatter against his ribcage. “We’ll see each other tomorrow?” He tried desperately, wishing for more than the pathetic trace of alcohol in his blood. Enough to drown the anxiety and the doubt and make the words he really wanted to say roll off his tongue as if it was the easiest thing in the world. 

Apologise for his stupidity and panic. 

“I’ll be quite busy with the moving stuff.” And Dan wanted Phil to be the brave one, to lean in and kiss him when Dan couldn’t. To twist his words until they made sense and see that Dan was so madly in love with him that it scared him. 

“Okay.” He said again, waiting for something to happen but they just stood there until another forced smile quickly tugged on Phil’s lips before he muttered a goodbye and then turned around, leaving Dan and his guilt and his regret. 

It was Dan’s fault but he still yelled at something in his head. 

_ You’ve ruined it.  _

And he asked himself how two words could erase six days, how six days could made him fall in love and how love could be denied because of a joke. 

But Phil just continued walking and walking, ignoring the heartache in his chest and the urge to turn back around and return to the lost comfort. Comfort that was built and torn down in the blink of an eye, an eye that welled up with tears that threatened to fall, and eyes that were being tugged with such an urgency to look behind him.

And so he did. He stopped in his tracks, clenching his fist tightly into his palm, and he turned around. 

But Dan wasn’t following him like he hoped he would be, and now Phil was alone in the middle of the streets, feeling a cold breeze brush along his skin. 

And it suddenly hit him how much he absolutely fucked up. 

He was angry, pissed off at Dan and at himself. Pissed off at Dan for not apologizing and letting Phil walk away, and pissed off at himself because he still didn’t blame Dan for doing that. 

He blamed himself and no one but himself. 

It was simple, really, and Phil was starting to understand why Dan had said “I don’t”.

If Phil wasn’t the problem, there would be no reason for him to say that.

But he did. 

He wasn’t funny enough, pretty enough, nor was he good enough. 

He wasn’t helpful enough, he could never be helpful, and he bet that none of his words had ever helped Dan in the way he thought they were. 

Nor was he loyal enough, because not too long ago the lips he pressed up against Dan’s were pressed against the lips of a stranger. 

And Dan deserved more than Phil, because Phil was nothing. Phil was average, if not lower than that.

Actually no, he was below average for sure.

He was stupid. Stupid to think joking around with Dan was the best idea and stupid to think that Dan could ever like him. 

He established that Dan didn’t, and maybe he never did. 

Maybe the moment Dan almost begged Phil to kiss him was a moment clouded by way too many emotions, too many thoughts, and maybe the way Phil had pinned Dan against the wall pressured him into saying words he didn’t mean. 

So of course Dan would say “I don’t”, because if Phil were in his place, he would’ve said it too. Because what more was Phil other than pathetic? A pathetic prostitute who thought he’d ever get a chance out of it or a chance with loving someone and maybe that would be enough. 

Again, stupid. 

And he was selfish. Because when he promised Dan that he’d pick up, he went on over and prioritized money over the one true being he cared about. 

And Phil turned back once more, continuing to walk along the broken sidewalk, finding himself walking on the edge of it instead soon enough. He felt the breeze of every car that rushed past him, honking for him to move, and with every loud sound the urge to laugh at the situation only increased more and more. 

But they didn’t tell him to move because they cared. They just told him to move because paying another fine or risking life in prison was way too much for them to handle. And Phil was sure that if there weren’t any consequences, he’d be bleeding out on the side like road-kill. 

He pulled out his phone despite everything he thought. Despite the fact that Dan was right to not want Phil as a boyfriend, he tapped on his contact and stared at the top of the screen, hoping to see “ _ typing _ ..” appear, but it never did. 

The amount of times of which he would pull out his phone to check from a notification of Dan was ridiculous, because it was so easy for him to text Dan instead. 

Though he didn’t, because it was most likely that Dan wanted nothing to do with him anymore. And so he left it. 

He slid his phone back in his pocket and sighed as he thought about everything else that had happened that day. 

But to no surprise, he only thought of Dan.

He was moving, and he thought of Dan instead.

He had to deal with his parents in a couple minutes, but he thought of Dan instead.

He needed to call the moving company, but he again only thought of Dan.

And he realized how tiring and painful it had become. 

And at the same time, no matter how much he wanted to claw out his hair and break out into a manic laughter at how horrible he was for being the way he was, and no matter how much he felt like his heart had needles slowly puncturing it, he loved thinking about Dan. 

And he continuously contradicted himself.

Because no matter how much it mutilated him, it still felt oddly good to hurt, and the phone in his pocket felt heavier and heavier by the second.

Soon, he stood in front of his parents’ apartment door, and was once again met with the judgemental look of his father. He reminded himself that this was one of the last few times he’d ever have to speak to him again, so he remained calm for the most. 

“I thought you said that I wouldn’t have to deal with you anymore?” His father said, an eyebrow raised as he watched Phil shuffle into the house with his eyes to the floor. 

“I know. But I’ll be out tomorrow. I just have to call the moving company and-” Phil began, mumbling every word but was eventually, of course, interrupted. 

“Moving company? With what money are you meant to pay them?” His father replied with a sarcastic tone and a scoff, folding his arms over his chest. But before Phil could reply, his father clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth and nodded, placing his finger against Phil’s chest causing his breathing to cut off. “Ah, right, the money you got from your  _ respectable _ job, right?” 

Phil bit down hard on his tongue to prevent himself from letting out a comment he would later regret, and simply kept a straight face once he met his father’s eyes. “I’m going to go to my room now.” He announced, and quickly rushed to his bedroom before closing the door behind him and locking it, not giving his dad any chance to reply and thankful that a hand didn’t grab at him. 

He sat on the edge of his bed and looked around his room, scanning over the mess he had formed over the last few months but never bothered to clean up and not entirely sure if he would miss his room or not. He hoped he wouldn’t at least, so that one day he wouldn’t have to call his parents begging them to allow him to come back. 

Actually, he was sure he wouldn’t. 

He turned his body towards the pillow behind him, frowning when all that popped up in his head was the feeling of how his lips brushed Dan’s for the first time and how real it felt. But he continued staring, falling in love over and over again every time he’d lose track of the memory and it would automatically start over. And for a second, he smiled, but then he was overwhelmed with sadness and he immediately looked away. 

_ Phil. _

_ Kiss me. _

Phil’s head directly snapped upwards to the direction of Dan’s imaginary voice, and he watched another memory play involuntarily. 

He begged himself to look away, but the floor was stained with love and anger that ran from their mouths and caused him to choke on air as he watched. And love now bled from his ears and dripped from his chin until his head hung low, heavy with thoughts of what once was and the idea of what could’ve happened. 

They weren’t lovers, but a lover such as Dan could only cause a pain as deep as this. Only one all the way inside a heart can shatter it with just a few words. 

_ “I don’t.” _

_ Worst part is- you know that don’t you? _

That’s what he wondered, if Dan knew that the choice of his words would’ve caused such a distance between them and if he meant for that to happen. 

It was loving, needing, and destroying, and then the music starts over again. 

He pulled out his phone, unaware of the actions he was about to make, and opened Dan’s contact on the messenger app. 

There was no sign of Dan being online, and so for a few moments he stared at the screen. 

And then, he began typing:

_ Hi Dan, I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry about today. I shouldn’t have called you my boyfriend, but I guess that doesn’t really matter now because I don’t think that’s going to happen anyways anymore. And I don’t blame you, btw. I know it’s my fault. Of course it is. I should’ve taken you home even if you said you were okay. You clearly weren’t, and that’s fine. I’m sorry for forcing you to come with me, and for forcing you to talk to me because I’m pathetic and you don’t need someone with as many issues as me in your life. I could list so many other reasons, but you probably already know them. You deserve better, lovely. You really do. And I understand why you wouldn’t want me to be your boyfriend, and you’re a hundred percent right. So I think maybe just for now, I should keep my distance from you. Right? I think that’s the best thing to do. Because everything’s so confusing you know? One second we’re kissing, the next we’re ignoring each other. I..Don’t know. Do you? Actually, you don’t have to reply. Don’t reply. Just..Let’s sort out our feelings for each other separately, yeah? Until we know for sure, and then we’ll talk. I’m sorry again. Bye Dan.  _

And with that, he hit send. 

And with the two grey checks that appeared, he broke down into tears. 

But he stood up anyways, ignoring the fact that he probably ruined everything even more, and went on to finally clear up the physical mess across the room, and ignored the sobs he was now suffocating on to the point where he ended up gasping for air. 

Dan was still sitting on the stairs in his apartment building when his phone vibrated. He stared at the door Phil had left through a few days ago, on the spot where they had slept or at least tried to fall asleep. With Phil’s head buried in his the crook of Dan’s neck, radiating the warmth that Dan lacked and so desperately craved as he leaned against the cold railing. 

His hands having nothing to hold and his lips nothing to kiss. Not lazy, not sleepy, not uncertain or passionate, not at all, because Phil was gone and so were the past six days and Dan knew nobody would save him if he stepped out on the streets right now. 

He wanted to beg Phil to kiss him in between of yells and tears. Wanted to clutch his shirt and pull him close enough to feel his breath against his lips and his eyes closed almost automatically. He wanted it to feel like the easiest thing in the world, wanted it to twist his stomach into knots and make his heart beat against his ribcage, but now it felt like his heart wasn’t beating at all and his eyes only closed because he was utterly exhausted. 

He needed Phil even if he didn’t want to. Every cell in his body craved Phil’s presence, his kisses and everything in between and he felt pathetic. Because it was so scary. It was scary to smile just by looking at someone, at the smallest curl of their lips. It was scary to have them on your mind at all time. To long for them and feel your heart break with agony when they’re too far to reach. To be so vulnerable that their words mean the world and could tear you apart so easily.

And Dan hated being scared, because all he wanted to feel was safe with Phil. And he did, he felt a comfort he’d missed throughout his whole life with him, security and love. He felt loved and maybe that was the scariest part of them all. Because maybe Phil didn’t love him. Maybe he just liked him and maybe Dan depended too much on him that once Phil was tired of him he’d fall apart completely. And perhaps that was reason enough to ruin it before it could get to that point. Before Phil could call him his boyfriend and then leave without a last goodbye. 

But Dan regretted it. He regretted it so deeply that he still hadn’t entered his flat, waiting for himself to get up and run to Phil. To apologise in between kisses and hugs and then he waited a little longer because Phil didn’t even want their shoulders to brush or their eyes to meet. And he wished he had the courage to go to him anyways. To risk his heart a little more. Because what was there to lose? 

His mum was drunk and passed out in the apartment upstairs. His dad had probably already forgotten about Dan’s existence and the rest of his family was either dead or too far away to reach. He had nothing but Phil. Nothing but whatever they had together and Dan wanted to fight for it because he couldn’t do anything about all those other things that went wrong.

But Dan didn’t stand up from his spot on the stairs. He just crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared at the unmoved door. His eyes were tired from crying even though he barely had anything to cry about. He’d thought the whole time that he would eventually ruin whatever they had. He knew it wouldn’t last. It wasn’t surprising and somehow that hurt even more. 

It hurt because it meant his toxic mind was right. That the hours he’d spent denying all those painful thoughts, the hours of ignoring the cracks in his heart that occured with every terrifying assumption his brain came up with were for nothing. Were delusional attempts of comforting himself, when in the end it was the truth.

_ Phil doesn’t love you.  _

_ Phil doesn’t want you. _

_ He has enough of your pathetic actions and deplorable behaviour. _

_ Of your drama and your crying. _

_ Of every time you were drunk and every second of you burdening him. _

And if those thoughts were right what else was? 

But Dan didn’t get to think about that as he pulled out his phone to see Phil’s name on the display. His name and the beginning of a message. Dan hesitated, unsure if he wanted to read what Phil had to say. If he wanted all those suppositions his mind began to throw at him to be proven true as well. But if Phil had the courage to text him, maybe he could reply. So he typed in his code and closed his eyes. 

Just to inhale and exhale once. To assume the worst. To be prepared for the absolute worst.

And it was.

His eyes wandered over the screen, eyebrows drawn together as he read. 

_ I shouldn’t have called you my boyfriend. _

And with every line Dan’s heart sunk a little lower. 

_ I don’t think that’s going to happen anyways anymore. _

And with every sentence it got harder to breathe.

_ I should keep my distance from you. _

With every word a tear fell from his eyes.

_ Don’t reply.  _

And with every letter more and more broke away from him.

_ Bye Dan _

Until there was nothing left. 

Nothing but an odd emptiness that filled out his body and his mind. 

His fingers hovered above the keyboard, but he wasn’t supposed to reply. Wasn’t supposed to tell Phil that he’d rather be his boyfriend than a stranger. That Phil wasn’t pathetic but lovely. That it was Dan who should apologise and that he was to blame. But Phil didn’t want him to reply. He wanted distance. 

But Dan wanted to scream, to yell through that stupid phone in his hands that Phil wasn’t right. That he didn’t deserve better, that it wasn’t confusing, because he loved Phil. He loved him and he needed him and he depended on his so much that he thought his heart would stop beating every time he wasn’t next to him. Every second he didn’t lay in his arms, felt his lips against his own or hear his voice speak so softly. 

He wanted to run to Phil and give a fuck about the distance, about sorting their feelings out separately. He wanted to beg him in between of yelling, beg him to believe that it just slipped. That it was a reaction of fear and sheer panic. An impulse to something he didn’t expect to hear so soon but now Dan wanted nothing but Phil to call him his boyfriend. 

And Dan thought he was done with crying but it felt like he hadn’t even begun as he pressed his sleeve against his lips to muffle the sobs that heaved through his body and he thought he was tearing in halfs. 

Phil gave up on him. Phil gave up and  _ until we know for sure, and then we’ll talk  _ was an empty promise that made Dan want to throw his phone against the wooden door across the hall, because they both already did.

Dan knew for sure that he needed Phil to breathe and Phil knew for sure was that  _ it’s not going to happen anyways. _

All of a sudden the past days were erased and Dan got almost mad at Phil for believing that he didn’t want to be his boyfriend. It felt so unnecessary, so stupid and Dan couldn’t explain himself, couldn’t apologise for it. He was waiting for the anger to get to him but he was nothing but sad, nothing but heartbroken at how easily they could break. How a word had ignited this fire and how there wasn’t anything to stop it from burning everything that’s been. Dan waited for the fury that was supposed to make him forget the anxiety or the depression that troubled his mind, the fury that he wouldn’t be able to suppress and would eventually force him to run to Phil and yell at him how naive he was for believing that Dan didn’t want them to be together.

But the tears didn’t stop falling and the sudden despair couldn’t be replaced by anger. His chest felt heavy and his body ached with pain. As if his heart had shattered and the shards punctured his lungs, making them collapse and leaving Dan gasping for air when there was none.

He wanted Phil and he begged that he could sense Dan’s crying. Sense that it was a mistake and that nothing would ever be okay if they ended it. But it was over and every time Dan reminded himself of that another wave of agony rushed over him.

And it would be an underestimation to say that it hurt Dan. Because it didn’t just hurt, it was killing, it was ripping through his chest, sucking the life out of his lungs through hope draining, stifled sobs that echoed through the halls. His heart was bleeding and it’s only been six days.

There was nothing but Dan’s crying and he didn’t even care to jump in front of a car, to cut open his skin or overdose on some pills, it seemed like he was dying on his own. And maybe he was.

Maybe he was dying a little or maybe he was dying a lot. 

Maybe he thought he loved Phil so agonisingly much or maybe he just did. 

Twenty-four hours ago he laid in Phil’s arms and now he didn’t need to exist anymore. Two days ago they declared their love, six days ago they were classmates and now they were nothing. The little good they had didn’t even last a week and still got Dan’s hopes up so high that he wished someone else would’ve saved Phil on that dim lit street. Someone else who had better answers, was less pathetic or annoying. Someone who wasn’t too anxious to love.

But all of that didn’t matter anymore because two words had unraveled the unspoken and it was so fucking ridiculous that five words could cause such great damage. That a slipped response could break them. Could break something so fragile but wanted. Something so desperately craved but maybe needed too much. So much that they’d been blind to the obvious, blind to the fact that they barely knew each other. Even if it felt like they’d spent an eternity together.

And Dan kept crying until he couldn’t anymore. Until the pain not only throbbed in his chest but his head and the exhaustion dragged him into his room. Even if his legs were weak and urging to run into the opposite direction. Even if he just wanted Phil and not the fading scent of him that still laced his pillow.

But he just laid down on his empty bed and faced the wall. Begging for a knock on his door when the silence got unbearable and his cold body urged a familiar warmth. But there was nothing and there wouldn’t be anything ever again, because Dan had ruined it and Phil didn’t want it to be fixed.


	14. Chapter 14

“Dan,” Phil whimpered in his sleep, tossing and turning in a great deal of distress in his bed as guilt haunted him not only in his waking moments, but in his dreams as well. 

One seconds passed, two seconds passed, three seconds passed.

But the guilt only kept eating and pestering him more and more, until he finally opened his eyes that had welled with tears involuntarily and a broken “I miss you” left his lips as he woke up. 

He stared out into the darkness afterwards, annoyed at how horrible he felt, laying on his back as he dealt with the false presence he felt to the right of him, and turning his head every couple of moments to check if someone was there, but of course there wasn’t.

And there hadn’t been anyone for the last week. 

And for those days, a fire in his throat and mind kept growing and growing, burning every muscle leaving charcoaled marks, and remorse continuously hit him like a sledgehammer. 

The ache of longing to be with Dan echoed through the very marrow of his bones. It was a chill wind trapped in the chambers of his heart. With every spare moment, his mind would rehearse a new letter to him.

_ I didn’t mean it when I told you to not reply.  _

_ Come on, lovely, do something so I won’t have to make the first move because I ruined us with my last. _

_ I need you.  _

_ I love you so much. _

He never knew that missing someone could take over every fibre of your being and wring you out let a wet sponge every day. 

And yet it did.

It was a torment he was surely not prepared for. 

A couple days into December. That’s what it was. And the first snow alighted Phil’s face softer than the kisses Dan used to plant on his lips, and just as cold as the memories had turned. In this swirl of white the world was washed anew, like a new page, but he didn’t want it. Under this pristine layer of clear water was the path he walked on with Dan not too long ago, holding him by the waist only to apologize afterwards. 

He wanted to turn back the pages and dwell upon the fine details: the taste of Dan’s cigarette stained lips and alcohol-influenced mind, the tears that wet his face and rolled silently into his cracked lips, salty and cold. But he wanted to go back and see the crows feet at the end of his eyes that deepened every time Phil managed to make him smile. 

But he couldn’t.

Because life was pulling him forward into the unknown with one hand and erasing their relationship with the other. 

And it was all his fault. 

Because if Phil had given Dan the chance to reply, then maybe he wouldn’t have to be laying on his bed alone, in an apartment he still hadn’t gotten used to with walls as thin as paper to the point where you could here the tiny squeaks of mice and cockroaches in the walls. And sure they were company like Dan said, but Phil wished he replied with “I wanted you to be my company, but I guess the cockroaches will do” in a sarcastic, flirtatious tone because that would’ve been the best thing to do. 

_ So I think maybe just for now, I should keep my distance from you. Right? I think that’s the best thing to do. _

God, how could he have been so fucking stupid?

He pulled the covers up to his face, biting down hard on the duvet until his jaw ached, the thoughts in his mind becoming thicker than the sheet of snow outside, and he feared that spring would come along but Dan wouldn’t.

He couldn’t let that happen. 

Never would he let that happen. 

Because they were supposed to be sorting out their feelings for each other now. 

Separately.

And,  _ fuck it hurt.  _

But it had to be  _ for now  _ and not  _ forever _ , right?

He fell for Dan harder than slipping on black ice, and as he finally opened the windows of his bedroom after staring out into nothing, his nostrils were filled with the delicate hint of vanilla in the air, and with it his brain flooded with pictures of him. His face just as pretty as it had always been, as pretty as the first day they met. 

Two weeks had passed since that day, and a week since they stopped speaking, and all Phil had were the limited memories of the week they fell in love only to break apart shortly after. 

He had lost the sound of his tired voice and the touch of his skin. His chest ached as he thought of what he lost, but he knew no one would ever replace him. 

But Dan had become a silhouette, as if he walked from a photograph and left behind blackness, bringing with him pain that comes during the quiet moments. And Phil wanted so much to keep him close, to laugh and talk and kiss until they fell asleep in each other’s arms like they once did, but he knew that his absence was of his own doing, not Dan’s.

And it just made it all so much worse. 

Because he missed Dan and he loved him.

Longed for him every second of the day, trying to imagine what he was doing and where he was, hoping that he was physically okay if not emotionally okay. 

It hurt. Fuck it hurt. How was it even possible to love someone so much? To the point where admitting to yourself that you loved them would send a surging pain throughout your chest and a sick, churning feeling down in your stomach? That that uncomfortable feeling still made you smile and warm? How could something that feels odd feel good too? 

He wanted Dan so badly. To kiss him and apologize for what he had done to them. To kiss him and stain his lips with love filled with sadness and regret and guilt. 

And he couldn’t even focus on his other surroundings. He couldn’t focus on his phone that had began ringing with a deleted number that he knew was his mother, and after she hung up, his father’s number popped up as well. But he didn’t answer, because he knew exactly what they would tell him. 

It wasn’t to check up on him, it was just to threaten him to return the money he had stolen from them so he could at least have something. 

But even now with almost £1,000 in his drawer, he had nothing if he didn’t have Dan. 

And suddenly it was 8:25 am, and he could hear his neighbours move around in their flats to get ready for work while he roamed around the halls, feeling emptier and emptier with every step that went in no specific direction. 

How badly he wanted to make his way over to Dan’s house, or just pick up the phone and call him, but he never dared to. He never dared to out of fear. The same fear of rejection he felt when he was back in school and he debated whether entering the music room or not.

One step, two steps, and with the third step, he heard a knock on the door to the left of him. 

He didn’t bother looking in the mirror, too tired to deal with his shattered appearance of healing bruises that had turned into a hue of green and yellow, and dark circles underneath blue eyes that had lost colour and turned grey. 

He just lifelessly dragged himself to his front door, fumbling with the doorknob before opening it and hoping it was just the landlord here to ask him for rent or see how he had settled in. 

But when he brought his eyes up from the tip of his socks to the person in front of him, his eyes widened and for a second, a feeling of dizziness struck him. Though he held on to the door frame to prevent himself from falling and stared right at the boy in front of him whose skin was discoloured and eyes drained in the same way as Phil.

But Dan’s scent wasn’t of vanilla that morning, it was of strong liquor that burned its way up his nose and sent his thoughts into a haze. His throat dried up, feeling as if it was ripping itself apart as he stood with his mouth slightly gaped open in search of something to say. 

He wanted to shut the door. He wanted to shut the door on Dan’s face and turn around as if he wasn’t looking right at him. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t at all when he was left dumbfounded as anxiety rose in his chest, a thousand questions on what a drunken Dan was doing at his door and what he would do if Phil let him in. 

So fucking afraid and so fucking in love with the person in front of him that he couldn’t tell if he hated how he felt anymore. 

And the only question that managed to leave Phil’s mouth was a croaked, “What are you doing here?”, his expression clearly painted in a nervous aura as his eyebrows drew together, and he folded his arms over his chest, the nail on his index finger restlessly picking at the skin on his thumb that never got the chance to heal. 

There was no hello, no dramatic saying of Dan’s name, just a direct point with a tone that trembled with worry and soft panic that arose in his stomach with the many possible scenarios of what could happen next. 

But Dan didn’t know what was about to happen either. Seconds ago he just laid in his bed like he had for the past seven days and now he stood there, in the dark halls of the weird apartment building, looking at Phil. 

Looking at Phil and his ruffled hair, his desaturated eyes and the slightly shocked expression on his face. A face Dan had missed more than he thought he would. He’d missed it in the middle of the night when his eyes were about to flutter close and the white wall he stared at faded into endless darkness. When he began to dream and when lighthearted dreams turned into nightmares as soon as he realised that the face he saw was just a memory. 

He’d missed Phil whenever he finished another bottle, when he walked down to the store he’d tried to get a job at a few weeks ago and bought two more. One to keep his mum out of his way and one to keep himself away. As far as he could so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the thoughts or the agony or the never ending crying once he was sober and Dan hadn’t cried in seven days. 

But even when his mind was drowned in the deepest haze, he still missed Phil. He’d lost count of the days after a while. When the walls in his room turned black, then grey, then white and grey over and over again. When he got tired of staring and began walking instead. Walking through the halls of his building, through the streets and past Phil’s old home and he wondered what his parents had turned Phil’s room into. If they’d locked it as if he was still there or if they’d thrown out all the things he left and Dan didn’t know what he had done.

He’d emptied, thrown and bought bottles. Started unnecessary fights with his mum and sat on his bed with the razor blade between his index finger and his thumb. Even though he felt like he was dying, it didn’t seem to end. And he’d pulled back his sleeve and pressed the metal into his skin where the blue of his veins parted into three and his nails dug into his palms and then he started walking again. Walking down the stairs, past the spot where they had sat and he couldn’t remember if Phil had laid his head on his shoulder or if he had laid his head on Phil’s. 

He’d picked up the papers on the floor, stained with footprints and wine and his grades were seamless. He hadn’t failed a single subject and for a second he wished he would’ve walked up on the stage and shook the principals hand. He wished he would’ve applied for a college in the summer instead of applying for jobs. He wished he could be proud but if he felt proud he felt the shards of his heart pierce through his lungs and he opened the drawer next to his bed and stored the papers away. 

And then he just laid in his bed again. Forgetting the warmth Phil radiated as the falling snow made his flat even colder. But he couldn’t worry about heating costs and bills, because then he would just worry about Phil. Worry if he was so alone that the bugs didn’t even bother him anymore. Worry if he was okay in that weird building, if the rent was affordable or if he was just as cold as Dan was and if the snow made him smile or cry because Dan had never asked him whether he liked summer or winter more. 

If he liked the heat of the sun that made endless freckles appear on his always white skin and his eyes clear up like cloudless skies. If he liked the ocean and the beach, the vibrant colours of the world and the opened blinds to let in the light the winter had spared. 

Or if he found beauty in the monochromaticity. In the sparkling white of the snow like a blanket of diamonds, soft and cold and perfect. If he liked the taste of hot chocolate, the early sunsets tinting the white in a rosy tone and kisses to keep each other warm. 

And Dan missed Phil’s scent as he pressed his pillow onto his face because it smelled like nothing and Phil didn’t smell like oceans because Dan had never been to the beach. Phil just smelled like warmth, like everything Dan missed and everything he never had. 

And he’d breathed through the fabric until there was no air left and he threw the pillow against the black wall because his body kept preventing him from dying while his mind killed him a little more. He wanted it to stop, wanted to pick up his phone but whenever he did the words appeared in front of his eyes. Whenever his fingers hit the keys he got reminded why it’s been days and his phone landed next to the pillow. 

It was so quiet and he just wanted to scream. Loud enough for Phil to hear him. Loud enough to break the layer of emptiness that rested over his heart like ice. Freezing it into position, stopping it from bleeding out. 

_ Please don’t give up. _

_ I love you.  _

_ Come back. _

_ Stay.  _

Dan was tired of being drunk, tired of ignoring the agony that grew with every passing day and tired of missing Phil so much and loving him even more.

It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t justified. They barely knew each other, they were nothing but former classmates. He couldn’t be so dependent on Phil after such a short period of time and he couldn’t be so broken after a few days of not seeing him. But he was and it hurt so fucking much. 

The hope he’d promised himself to stay away from was dying and he was dying with it. The little bit of good in hell was gone and it made hell even more painful. The water that was supposed to put out the fire turned out to be gasoline and now there was no way back.

“I want to be your boyfriend.” Because there was no way back to being strangers. “I want to be your boyfriend, okay?” 

And Dan wished he knew what he was doing but he was drunk and he was in love and he couldn’t bear the silence anymore. He would’ve done anything to rewind the past days and say “I do” instead of “I don’t”, even if he was uncertain, even if he didn’t want to stay and his toxic brain made assumptions that might’ve been true. Even if he was so afraid of loving and being loved, even if all he wanted was to ruin things, he wanted Phil a little bit more. 

But Phil just stared at Dan, analysing his face carefully as much as he focused on the slur in his tired voice, and for a moment he remembered how much he missed hearing it. Though a small, sad smile made its way on Phil’s expression and curled the corners of his lips, and he shook his head while looking back down at the floor and back up at Dan. 

“You don’t, Dan,” Phil began, peeling the skin off his thumb a bit harder now, and he could feel a liquid form beneath his touch. 

And he wished he just said,  _ You do?  _ Instead, but Dan was drunk and his words were full of so much toxicity that they’d become unreliable to Phil, let alone most likely false.

“You’re just saying that because you’re drunk, and you probably have no idea what you’re saying.” He continued, his eyebrows furrowed together as he kept his arms folded across his chest, as if a boundary of protection from Dan even if all he wanted to do was pull him closer. 

He didn’t mean to keep pushing Dan away. But despite a week passing, it was as if suddenly he wasn’t sure of anything anymore and at the same time he knew what he wanted, but he couldn’t help it because Dan’s breath smelled like so much liquor and he couldn’t tell if Dan meant what he said because seven days ago, Dan said “I don’t” with no hesitation at all. 

And even with whatever Phil was currently thinking, he took a step back and allowed the door to open a little bit more. Because, yes, Dan was drunk, but he couldn’t let the boy in front of him walk back out into the streets in such a state, and with contradicting himself as he usually did, he wanted him to stay as long as possible. 

And so he said, “But I’ll help you sober up, okay? So, come in and I’ll get you a glass of water.” and his words were filled with way too much awkwardness, but for now that was the only way they were going to come out. 

But Dan wrapped his fingers around Phil’s wrist before he could turn around. And he felt like he was failing, like his words didn’t mean anything anymore because Phil had given up and maybe it wasn’t hard for him to go back to being strangers. Dan didn’t want to sober up and leave. Go back to his room and endure the feelings he’d suppressed for the past week. And even if he didn’t know what he was doing or saying, there was nothing he could do instead. 

“I don’t want water.” He needed Phil to forgive him. He needed him to believe his words, erase the past week and kiss him as if it was the easiest thing in the world. But Phil felt so distant, his voice felt so different and Dan began to think that it was a bad idea to knock on his door because whatever they had was gone. “I just want you.” 

He tried to lock his eyes with Phil’s but they kept darting to the floor and Dan’s fingers urged to rest on his cheek, but he hesitated, knowing that Phil would just fight his touch. He wanted to ask what had happened between them, but he knew the answer already. It was his fault, he’d ripped them apart by being too afraid of being together and he hated himself a little bit more as Phil pulled his arm out of his grip. 

“I’m so sorry.” Dan’s voice was wailing with regret. “Please, please just-” But he didn’t know what he could say without breaking them even more. Which words were wrong and which were right and he wished his eyes could speak because all he wanted to say was  _ please just kiss me.  _

“Please what, Dan?” Phil’s voice broke and for a second he needed to look away, because suddenly looking at Dan felt like pins and needles in his eyes and now there was blood pooling on his waterline. “Tell me. Fuck,  _ tell me _ . Because I don’t know what you want anymore. I don’t know why you want  _ me. _ ” He continued, and maybe his words alone would make it seem as if he was angry, but he wasn’t. He was just upset.

He was just so upset with how they’ve become. How instead of being greeted by Dan with a bright smile, he was greeted with a boy with a storm over his head, lightening and thunder and rain splashing against his body and Phil was equally as gloomy that the storm had combined into a huge, destructive hurricane. And the snow that had fallen outside fell from the clouds above their heads, but as soon as it reached the floor it would turn into dangerous ice that one wrong, not careful step would result in a broken broken bone and immediate frostbites. 

And maybe expressing what he truly wanted to Dan didn’t matter. Because by tomorrow Dan would forget he ever came here, and Phil’s words would’ve vanished like nothing in the same way they had turned into nothing. 

But he didn’t want nothing. He wanted something and he wanted Dan like Dan said he wanted Phil. But he pulled his arm out of Dan’s grip, and he looked at him with the pain Phil himself had caused, and it was all so silly really. How quick love could form and how equally fast it could shatter and how much it could fucking hurt when it did. 

“I want you because you’re fucking amazing.” And Dan felt like he was falling apart once more. And he wanted more alcohol to numb the pain that tried to surface, that tore the shards into pieces and blurred his vision as the agony tried to escape through tears. He just wanted it to end. The distance, the space between them but he couldn’t. He couldn’t because Phil was so done with him. 

“Phil please.” He begged, the alcohol in his blood making his thoughts irrational. He couldn’t have Phil and it hurt. It hurt that he tried to get closer but every time he took a step forward Phil took one back. He felt helpless as Phil’s eyes began to fill with tears as well and he cursed himself for making him cry. He didn’t know what he was trying to do, what the fucking point of all of this was but what was there to lose? 

“I want you because you’re lovely and pretty and warm and I need you because I feel like I’m suffocating without you.” He didn’t know if he was choking out sobs by now or if he’d even started crying. He just felt his heart pumping more and more agony into his veins and the urge to cut them open as if they’d write out the words he was so desperate to say. 

He just wanted Phil to look at him. Look at him like he used to. But Dan had ruined it and he’d waited too long. Too long to fix it and so long that Phil didn’t want him anymore. “I didn’t want this to happen.” 

And the blood that rested upon Phil’s waterline had turned into tears that trickled from his eyes and down his cheeks as he listened to Dan speak. Hurting more and loving more and wanting more to the point where the pain had become unbearable, and to the point where he didn’t feel hurt anymore. 

He listened and wanted to ask so many questions. He wanted to ask him,  _ Then why say you don’t want to be my boyfriend in the first place?  _ And  _ How do I know you’re not lying to me?  _ But he didn’t. He couldn’t because Dan looked so broken and he looked as if he was experiencing so much more torment than Phil was, and Phil was so far into loving him that he couldn’t let himself increase Dan’s misery. 

And it only took Dan’s tears and his words for Phil to allow himself to get closer to Dan rather than take a step back. To allow himself to bring his hands up to Dan’s face, cupping his cheeks as he looked into his weary eyes because he couldn’t stand the thought that he was the reason of Dan’s crying. “I know, I didn’t want it to happen either.” He whispered, wiping the tears, that continued to fall, off his cheeks. “Don’t cry..”

But Dan tried to speak. He tried to apologize once again through sobs that escaped his lips, and Phil could only feel his own tears beginning to formulate and spill even faster. “Shh..” He hushed, and for the first time in a week, his lips connected with Dan’s into a short kiss, repeatedly but slowly planting them in between shushes and soothing words because he wasn’t worth Dan’s tears at all. 

And Dan’s lips tasted like alcohol but Phil didn’t mind at all. He just wanted to kiss his sadness away and until he couldn’t speak anymore. He wanted them to go back to the way they were a week ago, before words that had too strong of an impact and way too much ability to kill. And his skin felt so warm underneath Phil’s fingertips that it made Phil never want to let go again. It made him want to hold Dan and keep him until the sun set behind the ocean and darkness engulfed the room once more. It made him want to clear the storm above them, to be able to color what had been discolored and for the brown and blue in their eyes to come out from behind the grey. 

And maybe if Dan hadn’t cried, if he hadn’t told Phil why he wanted him and just said that he couldn’t tell him, then maybe Phil wouldn’t have let himself kiss Dan. Maybe he would’ve asked the questions he wanted and pushed Dan further away and took a couple more steps back. Though he didn’t. 

He took a few steps closer and let himself be struck by Dan’s words and blinded by the love he had for him. 

Because for whatever it was worth, he saw Dan’s flaws and loved him wilder. 

The past week sunk into the very back of Dan’s mind as he got lost in the way Phil’s lips felt against his own, in the comfort of his fingertips on his skin and his scent that drowned the bitterness of the alcohol. That pushed away the toxicity of his brain and the doubt or hesitation that had parted them in the first place and Dan wished for this to never end.

Their breaths mingled and he tried to stitch himself back together as he pulled Phil closer by his waist, deepening the kiss desperately until there was no space left between them and he could feel Phil’s heart beating against his chest. Feel his own heart pick up the pace and the blood rushing through his body like a spreading fire that didn’t burn. Melting away the emptiness and the frustration that had held him captive, leaving nothing but love and affection for the boy the lips belonged to. 

He was addicted to the feeling, to the thought that Phil had leaned in first, to the simplicity he’d craved and the love he thought was gone. Nothing had ever felt as right, as good or as needed as kissing Phil, as leaning closer into the warmth of his body, trying to eliminate every trace of loneliness. A kiss that was making up for the time that had passed since the last time, that whispered apologies in between and was trying to last forever. It felt like suffocating but nevertheless like Dan needed Phil to even breathe on his own. 

His fingers closed into a fist, clutching the fabric of Phil’s shirt as if he needed every threat of the material to hold on to him. But Phil wouldn’t leave again. He wouldn’t disappear and create more distance than Dan could bridge. He wouldn’t let Dan go back into that empty flat with nothing but alcohol to numb the feelings he couldn’t endure without killing himself along the way. Phil was here, his lips were here and his love hadn’t passed like seven days. 

Nothing had changed, nothing but the date and Dan craved this familiarity, he craved the security of Phil’s touch, of his thumb caressing his cheek and his lips moving against his own. He would’ve done anything to make Phil love him again and even if he felt the love seep from the kiss he wasn’t sure if it was enough to glue the pieces back together all at once. For the wounds to heal in those very seconds, the broken to be fixed and seven days to be rewinded. 

But he craved so desperately to be okay and his mind was so lost in the alcohol and the intensity of the kiss, that his fingers tug on the hem of Phil’s shirt. He needed him to be closer, needed Phil to love him a little more and never stop loving him again. Never stop flirting or kissing and he lifted Phil’s shirt as his fingers brushed his sides, fearing that if it would end now it would end forever and he needed it to go on. 

And Phil needed it to go on as well more than ever, but panic rose in such a quick manner that he could barely catch up with it when he felt Dan’s fingers and fabric graze his skin and a cold gust of air blow by his stomach that he almost immediately pulled away from the kiss, his flushed expression plastered with fear as he looked at Dan apologetically while tugging down at his shirt more than necessary. 

“I-“ He began, trying to search for an explanation or an excuse to tell Dan who looked so incredibly hurt but he couldn’t say anything at all. 

Because he couldn’t tell Dan,  _ I don’t want you to see me without my shirt on because you’ll see how disgusting I am. You’ll know I’ve kissed other people. You’ll see it. You’ll see bruises and scars just like the ones on my face and you won’t think I’m pretty anymore.  _

And he couldn’t let Dan take off his shirt because as soon as he noticed him doing that, the only thing that came to mind was a couple days ago where he was in someone else’s bed and they took off his shirt in the same way. 

And yes, of course Dan was safe. 

Of course he made Phil feel safe but he couldn’t help but be afraid of him just a little. Afraid that he’d treat his body horribly even though Dan’s touches felt warm and soft and nice against his skin, and even though his kisses were filled with love rather than pure lust. 

But Phil was dirty. He was a  _ whore _ and that was all he’d ever be and Dan couldn’t know. He’d never let him find out because he wouldn’t be able to handle hearing Dan describe him as exactly that and maybe even more and worse because he’d sound just like those who paid and his father and Dan was way kinder. 

Dan was so much kinder and Phil was a billion percent sure that that would be why it would hurt so much more than it usually did because without Dan, Phil would always be alone no matter how many beds he’d sleep in that weren’t his and no matter how many times his lips would touch others that weren’t Dan’s.

He breathed shakily as he stared at Dan who tried to approach him worriedly but Phil only stepped away even faster, battling the thoughts in his head that urged him to pull Dan close but forced him to do the opposite. And Dan said his name, begging him to come back and apologizing for whatever he thought he did wrong, and he took ahold of Phil’s hand, holding it firmly against his own chest as he looked at Phil with tears in his eyes and asked him what happened broken-heartedly. 

But Phil couldn’t give a proper answer. He simply shook his head, noticing how blurry his vision had become as he felt Dan’s chest underneath his palm.  “Y-You need to sober up. Okay Dan? That’s it. You’re drunk and I’m- fucking stupid, that’s all.” He stammered, his eyebrows drawn together as he took ahold of Dan’s hand and began walking with him, and more like dragging him, towards the bathroom, trying his best to ignore Dan’s drunken cries from behind him after he pulled his other hand out of his grip, hating himself more and more by the second as he realised how horrible he was and how he let himself ignite Dan’s pain once again.

“I’m sorry that I’m drunk.” He began, wincing as Phil’s fingers wrapped themselves around his wrist to get a better hold of Dan, pressing onto the wound where his veins had almost given in under the metal. “I’m sorry, please.”

He didn’t want to walk, didn’t want to sober up and endure the consequences of his stupidity. He wanted to turn Phil around and make him kiss him again. Wanted to feel his lips on his own and his fingers on his cheek, not around his wrist. He wanted to love him and feel loved but all he felt was the memory of his mum dragging him into his room like Phil did now engraved into his brain.

“Phil please.” He tried again, the tears rolling down his skin like alcohol from his lips and Phil turned on the light in the bathroom, let go of Dan just to place his hands on his shoulders and push him into the shower. 

He was crying as well. 

Suddenly, Dan didn’t know whether he had kissed him first anymore. If he had forced his lips on Phil’s, urged his hands to pull him closer by the waist because he was so desperately in love and so fucking drunk that what left his mouth were nothing but incoherent words and his actions no more than selfish. He didn’t know if Phil had even kissed him back, if he even had the chance to withstand the kiss until his hands found their way up to Dan’s chest and the strength to push him away. 

Phil didn’t love him, he didn’t love him at all. He was over cigarettes and liquor, staircases and locked doors, he was done with Dan and whatever they had. And Dan wished he wouldn’t have shown up drunk but he wouldn’t have made it sober. He wished he would’ve slashed his wrist before they’d even met and someone else would’ve saved Phil.

Someone who didn’t get drunk every time a forgotten thought, a buried memory or hidden pain surfaced. Someone who was sure and willing to stay. Someone who didn’t need to be saved as well, who might never kill themselves but holds a razor blade to their skin, pills to their throat or a gun to their head every single day. 

Phil deserved more than a wreck. A sunken ship, slowly dissolving into the void. He deserved unconditional love and all the attention one could give. And Dan couldn’t provide that. 

He loved him for sure, maybe even a little bit too much, but that love was fragile and sweeping with doubt. And he wished he would’ve let Phil go, let more weeks pass until Dan was nothing more than a few tragic days and Phil could’ve moved on to someone right. 

But now they stood there. In the tiled shower, face to face but not close enough as the water from the shower poured down Dan’s face, merging with his tears. Washing off the taste of Phil’s lips, the feeling of his touch and any trace of mutual love that he’d believed in until now. 

And he wanted to ask Phil when he had left. Where he went, if he would ever come back or if he just abandoned Dan in the rain. 

And even if Dan had thought that he would always keep running after Phil, he wasn’t sure about that anymore. He wasn’t sure if there was anything to chase, anything to ever reach. Because now he was just metres away from him and unable to bridge the distance. Once he would leave the flat there was no way he would be this close to Phil again. 

And he wanted to cry even more but the cold water froze his tears and glued his lips shut. He just felt the pain punch down onto his heart repeatedly, until it was nothing but a muscle pumping fragments more numerous than the stars into his stream. And there had been times when he could drink the pain away, but this time it would be impossible. 

And he just wanted to let his legs go limp, collapse on the floor and never get up again. His body felt useless when Phil wasn’t the one holding it, it felt like a waste of energy he didn’t even have to stand. But his eyes didn’t want to let go of Phil’s, he didn’t even want to blink because he could disappear any second.

But the sudden exhausting came over him like a wave and he sunk to his knees, feeling his bones shatter when they hit the floor. But Dan didn’t care. He would get up in a minute, either dragged out of the flat by Phil or just walking himself. The water droplets being the only thing he would leave and even they would fade with a bit of time. Everything did. 

And Phil couldn’t help but place his hand over his mouth, pressing hard against his lips to muffle the choked sobs that escaped them as he watched the boy kneeling in front of him. The boy who he’d broken with distance and words. The boy who he never wanted to hurt but there he was, tears in his eyes as he sat on the shower floor, drenched in ice cold water all because of Phil. 

He felt absolutely terrible, cursing himself for causing such a damage in Dan’s heart, breaking it more and more when it was barely pieced together in the first place with alcohol instead of glue. All Phil did was slam a sledgehammer into Dan’s chest repeatedly, aware of the pain, aware of the hurt and the bleeding he was causing, but taking no action to stop it. 

And how desperately he had wanted it to stop. 

To be able to kiss Dan again, his cigarette-stained lips against Phil’s rosey taste. To be able to feel the soft strands of hair that ran in between Phil’s fingers. To be able to feel Dan’s hot breath brush against his skin when they spoke to each other, so close that he’d be able to see the detailed in Dan’s honey speckled eyes. 

But that was gone. And he wanted it back. He  _ needed _ it back because it was the only thing that kept him going. It was the only thing that made him smile. 

And now the only thing Phil was doing was letting the boy he once held in his arms to encase with warmth freeze underneath the frigid water that felt as if it was way below zero degrees. 

Though as much as he wanted it to end, he again did nothing. He took the towel off the cabinet beside him and held it in front of Dan, waiting for him to take it but he never did. And it was until Phil crouched down that Dan raised his arm, but it was only to grab the fabric of Phil’s shirt and pull him closer gently.

The droplets of water that ran down Dan’s skin had wettened Phil’s shirt, and he felt even more guilt when the temperature of the water he had first assumed was verified because he now realized the chattering of Dan’s teeth against one another, and his weary eyes that bore into Phil’s.

“Don’t do this, Dan..” Phil whispered, his gaze falling on Dan’s glazed lips before he met his eyes again, apologetic with his look but his words spoke different. “I can’t do this..” He continued, beginning to move away before he felt Dan’s grip tighten, and he was once again pulled closer to him, but this time he lost balance that he rested his arm for support on the icy tiles, making himself closer to Dan and it hurt so very much to be centimeters away from him. 

“Phil..” Dan said, his face vibrating as he shivered, and his eyes welled with tears once more. He just looked so much in pain that it made Phil nauseous to look at him, unable to endure watching the chaos he’d caused in his head. 

“Why don’t you love me?”

And with his question, there was no hesitation in Phil’s response when he replied, 

"I do. I do love you. Do you hear me? I love you so fucking much that it’s almost like I hate you. But I don’t. I just love you.” Not noticing the sadness in his words and the tears that broke his voice as he spoke. And Dan looked at him with eyes that beneath the agony would be widened with surprise, and so Phil shook his head, getting out of Dan’s grip without being pulled back before he added, “Now shut up and go dry yourself off. I doubt you’d even remember that I said I did tomorrow morning..” and stood up, leaving Dan stranded alone on the bathroom floor as he left into his bedroom to prepare clothes for Dan, this time allowing weeps to escape him instead of keeping them bottled up like he had been doing earlier. 

In his room was when everything began to feel heavy. Heavy as he felt pressure in his chest, as if water began to fill up his lungs and now they’d been overflowing into his trachea and he felt like he was choking. And he wanted to cry for help, but the only person other than him was Dan, and Dan was drunk and Phil was stupid for doing what he did. 

It felt like clamps on either side of his head, pushing down until his head would pop and blood would spew from his neck and he would spare himself of those eight seconds after decapitation to be able to look at his own worthless body. 

But there were no clamps, there was no water in his lungs, just amounts of pain and pain that couldn’t be tolerated but he was forced to because he couldn’t run now. He couldn’t run because he didn’t know if escaping would make things better or worse. 

And so he dealt with it. 

He dealt with it as he placed a pair of black sweatpants and a grey hoodie on the bathroom toilet, where Dan had still been kneeling down and the towel in front of him left untouched. And Phil couldn’t stand to look at him, wanting to look everywhere but at Dan for once. But he couldn’t, and the part of him that loved him couldn’t. 

So he knelt down, taking a hold of the towel and hesitantly placed his fingers below Dan’s chin, carefully tilting his head upwards to reveal two eyes that once had honey coloured speckles and were now faded into grey, cold and monochrome and it was all Phil’s fault. 

He wanted to apologise so badly, for pushing Dan away, for drenching him in ice cold water, for everything that he’d done to him, and what managed to come out of his mouth was barely a whisper, but a whisper that said “I’m sorry” and Dan looked up at him, visibly wondering what Phil had said because it was extremely hushed. 

But he didn’t repeat what he had said, and he didn’t know if he was ever going to. He simply continued patting down Dan’s face with the towel every time a drop would fall from a strand of hair, sliding down his forehead and the bridge of his nose to splatter on his shirt. 

His hands made their way to the bottom of Dan’s shirt and lifted it only slightly, enough to slide his hand and the towel underneath it but he heard a broken whisper say “No..” quietly, and Phil looked up at Dan with tired eyes, shaking his head a little. 

“I’m not going to take off your shirt. It’s just to dry you off underneath because you’ve been sitting here ever since I left.”

But Dan shook his head as well, slowly taking the towel from Phil and held it against his own chest saying, “I’ll do it.” and his eyes met Phil’s for less than a second before he looked away to the clothes besides him. 

“Okay.” 

And with that, Phil left, wrapping his arms around his body as he went into the living room that was made up of an old couch, an equally old table, and an aged TV, and noticed how cool the room was, immediately getting a shiver over his entire body. He debated on whether or not making Dan sleep here or not, and he eventually decided he wouldn’t because he didn’t even have a proper blanket or pillow to give him. 

And as he made his way back to his bedroom, Dan, who was now wearing Phil’s clothes, had already been sprawled out across his bed and it seemed as if he was out as soon as his body hit the mattress, and Phil couldn’t help but smile a little, but it quickly faded when he remembered he couldn’t exactly sleep next to him. So the only thing he did was try to at least cover Dan with the bedsheets so he wouldn’t be cold, but as he attempted to pull them from underneath his body, Dan woke up and sleepily managed to look at Phil who cursed underneath his breath for stirring him awake. 

“Will you sleep next to me?” He asked, and Phil saw how Dan sort of purposefully sunk further into the hoodie in a way that it slightly engulfed him. And instead of a pale colour, Dan’s cheeks were rosy with warmth. 

But Phil thought for a second, and he figured that if he directly said no then Dan would begin to ask questions, so he replied, “In a second, okay? I just need to get something.” And Dan nodded in reply, rolling over onto his stomach so that he was able to bury his face in Phil’s pillow and Phil managed to get the sheets over him properly. And once again, Dan was out as quick as a lightbulb would be when you’d turn it off, and Phil let out a sigh as he turned off the lights in his bedroom when he walked out. 

It was now 9:50am, and in less than two hours so many things had happened and Phil could process none of it. He looked down the hall after closing his bedroom door, and noticed that the front door had been open the whole time, and he whispered a sarcastic “Great” to himself before he went to go close it, wondering if anyone had been listening to them, hearing the apologies and the cries and feeling the heartache all the way from their flat. 

But Phil doubt they would, because all they probably were was a drama-driven individual, not caring about the actual people involved, but the story that seemed as if it came from a movie, that seemed fictional enough in their eyes that it had turned into gossip material to tell during morning tea. 

But he didn’t care. He didn’t care that he could be judged, that someone might have seen him kissing Dan or dragging him to the bathroom while Dan begged behind him through the door’s peep-hole. Because it was none of their business to be even looking, to be taking a look into their lives, into  _ his  _ life. 

Though unfortunately that was how it always was. His life there on display whether he liked it or not to be used as conversation material, as a way to invoke pity on facial expressions that didn’t speak to him but spoke between each other.

He did care. 

So he hoped that no one had been listening.

And it is truly amazing how every time he felt emotional pain after such an emotion-inducing event, it wouldn’t hurt as a cut or a bruise would. 

It would just be a heavy feeling. 

His head would spin and his tongue would feel too big for his mouth. To feel the need to wipe away non-existent tears that he wanted to form but couldn’t. 

And it is truly amazing how every time he felt that pain the only explanation he could sum up, is how he caused that pain on himself. All that does, though, is bring on even more pain. 

And every ounce of him wishes that he could just fling himself off the top of the building. To walk deep into the depths of the ocean and stay down under. But he didn’t know what was worse: drowning beneath the waves, or dying from the thirst. 

And unlike the world he looked out to from behind the window, a world covered in layers of beautiful, pure, white, the inside of his house was the complete opposite. 

Because in this heartache that he felt, the sun won’t shine, and birdsong passes as if the melody can’t glide through the air as it once did before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait!! Chapter 14's finally here now so..that's good! Let us know what you think of the story so far!


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